


Barbie Doll

by AnotherAnon0



Series: A Complicated Affair [14]
Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternative Title is "Albert is in for an extremely fucking bad time", Anal Fingering, Aphrodisiacs, Betrayal, Bimboification, Bladder Inflation, Breastfeeding, Canon Related, Captivity, Childishly Sadistic Sergei, Choking, Enemas, False Pregnancy, Fanart, Force-Feeding, Forced Feminization, Forced Orgasm, Fucked Up, Gangbang, High Heels, Hormones, Light Sadism, M/M, Male Lactation, Medical Experimentation, Milking, Misgendering, Mommy Kink, Most tags will begin to apply in Chap 2 onwards, Non-Consensual HRT, Non-Sexual Age Play, Psychological Trauma, Public Use, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rough Sex, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexist Language, Slut Shaming, Spitroasting, Training, Verbal Humiliation, Vibrators, Whipping, urethra insertion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:22:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 15
Words: 25,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29359458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: After failing to obey Lord Spencer's commands, Albert gets retrained for a very different role as punishment.[Loosely ties in with the Beginnings cutscene in Umbrella Chronicles][[Heed tags!]][[[The AMAZING Radelski gifted me with SergeixAlbert fan art, which has now been embedded into the endnotes of Chapter 10! Please check it out!]]]
Relationships: Alfred Ashford/Albert Wesker, Alfred Ashford/Sergei Vladimir, Sergei Vladimir/Albert Wesker
Series: A Complicated Affair [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827997
Comments: 120
Kudos: 56





	1. Resistance (An Introduction)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To Be Consumed (To Be Destroyed)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29324337) by [sweetNsimple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple). 



Albert had put up a good fight. 

He'd thrashed, kicked, punched, and screamed. 

But Sergei's twin B.O.W servants were easily able to overpower him, clutching him tightly by the arms and dragging him through the long, empty halls of Arklay facility's underground. He'd almost run out of energy by the time he was being strapped to a cold, utilitarian medical table, but a final hurrah of strength managed to afford his right arm a brief moment of freedom from the tyrant's grips. 

Too brief. Quickly halted. 

When they wrangled him back down, he wailed in sadness, limbs collapsing into his restraints -- exhausted, terrified, conquered. 

The Ivan twins held him down by the shoulders in an added, unnecessary measure to keep him down. Albert just barely heard the opening of a door over the sound of his own raging heartbeat.

For a tender second, he was almost relieved to see William Birkin. So hopeful his partner would help him, he didn't even notice the needle he was holding.

"W-Will! Will, sto-stop this! Please!!" Albert had tried not to sound pathetic as he pleaded for help from the man he had considered to be his best friend. But William just shook his head, blue eyes cast downwards in a mix of shame and guilt.

"I'm sorry, Al..." William said softly, "You really should have just... Listened to Spencer..."

William forcefully stabbed his neck with the unknown substance. It burned when it entered his muscles, causing an itch to wash over him that maddened him that he was unable to scratch. If his hands hand't been restrained, he'd have clawed his very flesh off. Fortunately, the itch didn't last long, dissipating into a void as his mind calmed to ebbing cool.

He had a few moments to wonder what would become of him, darkness closing in around his vision like lights were slowly being turned off around him. He figured he'd be mutated, disfigured and distorted into some ghastly simulacrum of himself, every bit of intellect in his mind reduced to a hollow nothingness intended only to receive and complete orders.

And though he didn't know it, and perhaps not in the way he expected -- his assessment was perfectly accurate.

\--

When Albert's eyes opened, he was almost shocked that he had some degree of lucidity.

He stilled for a moment, taking deep breaths and assessing his internal state.

While he felt physically tired, as though he'd been sleeping for an extended period of time, his thought processes seemed to be working fine after a quick check to see if he could recall what happened prior to his unconsciousness. 

He quickly reviewed whatever details he could.

The T-Virus had escaped in Arklay. He'd made plans to destroy one of the executive buildings in an attempt to contain it. The S.T.A.R.S had been deployed to the mountains to investigate the reports of murders. He was supposed to have met them at the Estate.

And then _Sergei_ had shown up. Albert huffed as he remembered how _furious_ the older man had been that he was going to attempt to destroy Umbrella property without speaking to Lord Spencer. The old aristocrat had apparently blamed him for the outbreak, and decided to send Sergei down to keep him under thumb. 

That's when it all went to hell. 

The Ivans. The room. The _injection_. 

Despite his exhaustion, Albert decided to try and sit up. There was no way that injection had left him unaltered. And even if it did, there was no way he'd been simply been sent on his way. He wanted to figure out what they'd done to him, and where he was. The white ceiling and fluorescent lighting was unfamiliar and empty, and gave him no hints as to where he could be.

He shifted awkwardly, trying to see if he could move his legs. They weren't restrained, and he was able to drag his feet upwards until his knees were propped up.

Whatever he was laying on certainly wasn't a medical table, and was instead soft like a mattress. He rubbed his feet against it for another second, recognising they must have been naked to take in the fabric beneath. He could feel the fluffiness of whatever he was laying on comb between his toes. 

Problems arose when he tried to move his arms to his sides.

**_clink clink clink_ **

As Albert pulled his arms inwards, setting his palms upon the mattress, he heard the unmistakable sound of metal clattering with his movement. Weight and tightness around his wrists then became obvious, and he realised he must have been cuffed on a long lead. 

Weakly, Albert pushed himself upwards, failing a few times but ultimately able to seat himself. His vision spun as his brain rolled around in his head, feeling dizzy just from the small change in position. He dropped his head and waited for the room to stop violently shifting and tilting, breathing deeply through his nose.

He oriented himself once again, and his eyes widened when he was finally able to take in the sight of his own exposed cock. 

He was naked. Not only naked, but fully shaved. His public area even had retained a flush of redness, as though the depilation had been done very recently.

The realisation immediately pulled bile into his throat, sending a wave of panic to rush up his spine.

He pulled his hands closer, instinctively wanting to cover himself, but his arms were stopped short when they were a mere foot away from his body. He rapidly looked from wrist to wrist, taking in the not-quite-long-enough chain that led from the metal cuff around his wrist to the walls on either side of the room.

As his exhausted mind managed to pull in more and more details, Albert's heart began to race.

Wherever he was, he was in a bedroom. The white walls and silver chains contrasted strongly with the bright pink bedsheets he was sitting on, ones that were a bit fluffy in texture. There was little in the room but a baby blue dresser and a huge, pink woven basket of what appeared to be stuffed animals in the corner. The door didn't appear to be metal, but was clearly affixed with almost one dozen different lock mechanisms, layered up the side where the handle was. They were obviously controlled by the keypad on the wall, one that was near the light switch.

Albert wanted to call out, but it was only then that he realised he couldn't. 

He bit his teeth down experimentally, the cause of his jaw's pain readily becoming apparent. 

He was wearing a gag. His tongue flicked at it curiously as though he didn't quite believe it was there. 

_"No. No. No. No."_ Albert's ears began to ring and his mind reeled, panic overwhelming his exhaustion as he suddenly tried to pull at his chains impotently. They clattered and dangled, but didn't budge from the heavy bolts they were affixed to in the walls to either side of him.

Tears of humiliation and rage rolled down his cheeks, his sobs muffled completely by the ball in his mouth. 

"I always thought you looked like a Barbie doll..."

The voice seized him. Immediately, he stopped whining and thrashing, eyes widening and Adams apple bobbing in his dry throat.

Albert tried to look over his shoulders, but failed miserably, instead collapsing back onto the mattress. He had only been able to see what was in front of him, not realising something might have been closer to the back of the room. 

He didn't need the older man to come into his line of vision to know it had been him. His deep, rolling, accented voice was unmistakable. 

Albert's nose twitched in disgust when he saw that Sergei had a smile on his scarred face. The Colonel loomed over the side of his bed, grinning in self-satisfied delight.

"So cute..." He continued, speaking slowly and softly, "So clean and bright and blond."

Albert felt like vomiting, but knew he'd choke on it with the gag in his mouth and he certainly didn't trust Sergei to give him CPR. The younger man cringed away, trying to sink deeper into the mattress when he saw Sergei's finger come down towards his face. Albert shook his head violently, trying to get Sergei's finger to stop stroking his tear-moistened cheek.

"I was told it was wrong for a boy to play with Barbie dolls." Sergei pursed his lips into a small frown, "And when my father found them, he beat me. He took them away..."

Despite his best efforts at resistance, Sergei continued to stroke him, thumbing away his tears and rubbing them between his fingers.

"But I loved them so much!" His smile returned as quickly as it had left. Sergei's pale blue eye looked like it was somewhere else, engrossed in some deep-seated memory, "I was happy when he died. I managed to rescue my beautiful Barbie from the rubbish bin before the house burned to ash."

Sergei sighed contently, finally withdrawing his touch. He adjusted his coat's lapel for a moment before slipping out of Albert's gaze. The virologist struggled to sit back upright as quickly as he could, finding Sergei shielding his hand as he punched in the code to the door. The locks all clamoured open as he did.

"I am sorry for the state of your room... I did not have much time to get ready for your arrival." He said, not looking back, "I will fix things up soon, I promise."

As he opened the door, he hit the light switch. The fluorescent lights on the ceiling flickered to darkness, revealing there were some string lights that had been draped over the dresser. They had a warm, dim glow -- one which would have been soothing in any other circumstance. 

"That's a bit better, _da_?" 

Albert's scream pushed at his gag as the door closed behind the older man, sobs heaving through his chest as the locks on the door loudly closed once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT ME STARTING ANOTHER STORY WHEN I DAMN WELL KNOW I HAVEN'T FINISHED ANY OF MY OTHER ONES.
> 
> I am sorry, but SweetNSimple just took over me with yet another plotbunny I had to explore. This was obviously inspired by their fic "To be Consumed," which is amazing and you should go read it.
> 
> Also, I know this is a controversial practice, but I do tend to tag my stories in advance. So while many creators prefer to only include the tags which immediately apply in the chapters they have posted, I do prefer to use any and all tags I know will apply, just so people don't get invested in a story that they will not later be able to handle or might trigger them.


	2. Pretty Girl

Albert quickly began to realise whatever drugs he'd been given had limited his strength substantially.

When the Ivan twins entered his room and uncuffed him, just a short while after Sergei had left, he was barely able to resist the manipulation of his body. While he would have been able to put up a good fight before, he was reduced to meekly kicking and slapping as the two beasts pulled him from his bed. They barely flinched at his weak actions, and marched him behind the bed, where Albert saw a small, en-suite bathroom. He figured it was where Sergei had been hiding after he awoke.

The Ivans unceremoniously dunked him into the bathtub, one which had been completely filled. The water was lukewarm, as though it had once been a nice temperature.

Rough, animal hands scrubbed at him roughly, pushing and pulling him into the water like he were a piece of laundry. Albert choked as water flooded up his nose and around his gag, having to swallow as much as he could because he couldn't expel it properly. He coughed and sputtered, almost relieved when the beasts pulled finally pulled him from the water.

Even though they could be ordered to preform just about any function, humanoid tyrants were not designed for delicacy, and when one of them stabbed his arm with a large needle, Albert shrieked in pain. His humerus shivered like it had just been struck by the point, and he had a moment of unrelenting agony before the world began to fade again. 

When Albert awoke, he was somewhere new.

His groggy mind slowly fluttered to life, hazy eyes processing quickly that he was seated, and his arms and legs were tightly strapped to those of a heavy, metal chair. Wherever room he was in looked less industrial and more domestic, a few simple lamps painting the walls with a dim orange glow. He wasn't sure where he could have been, but he could hear a woman's voice, a bit of singing, and a happy, cartoonish tune coming from a speaker somewhere in the room.

Albert rolled his head on his shoulders to the side, trying to see where the voice was coming from. A few feet away, a very fat, very short woman was standing in front of a small table, talking to herself.

The woman had a deep, thick Russian accent, and her English was broken, though chipper.

"You will be good girl for _polkovnik_! Pretty girl! Oh so pretty!" She hummed, organising a few well-loved pieces of makeup from a black clutch. When she noticed Albert was awake, she waddled in close to him, smiling brightly. She was missing a few teeth.

"Pretty girl! Hello!" She said, rubbing a chubby hand over Albert's mop of still-damp hair.

" _Mmnnnphh_...." Albert groaned, still muffled by the gag.

The woman seemed to take issue with the big rubber ball in Albert's mouth, and quickly undid the piece of constrictive leather. Albert gasped deeply when she freed him, sore jaw gaped still as cool air rushed into his dry mouth. The moment he felt able to, he began to speak, voice hoarse and low.

"M-ma'am... Ma'am... Ma'am p-plea-please... H-help me..."

"Helping?" She titled her head to the side, "Yes! Helping. I helping you to be pretty girl. My name Svetlana!" She smiled brightly.

"N-no... n-no... p-please... I w-want to-to go..." 

"Go?" Svetlana looked shocked at the proposition, "Go? Why go?"

Albert began to sob involuntarily, unsure of what psychotic dimension he had ended up in. His arm still throbbed from where Ivan had stabbed him. Svetlana watched him intently as he cried, eyebrows raised in confusion.

"Why go? Why cry? _Ne plach_ '..." Svetlana mewed, stroking Albert's restrained arm soothingly, " _Polkovnik_ love you. You will be pretty girl for _polkovnik_..."

The woman snatched one of the tubes of lipstick she had set out, uncapping it quickly to reveal a bright pink colour "See?" She held it up, like it was proof. Albert simply wailed even harder.

"No? No like?" She seemed disappointed. She grabbed another colour, this time an offensive shade of red, "Like?"

Albert continued to sob, tugging at his restraints meekly.

"I like..." Svetlana held up the pink colour again, waving it a bit, " _Polkovnik_ like! Pretty, pretty."

Svetlana carefully set the lipstick down, grabbing a puff and a small compact with a porcelain-shade of powder inside from the table.

" _No snachala_...." She muttered to herself, smashing the puff into the powder and releasing a cloud of white dust. She then roughly began patting the puff against Albert's face, so hard it almost felt like a beating in and of itself. She seemed to have no concern for his tears, as though she could not even see them. The makeup caked over the wet parts of his cheeks, cheeks that were dabbed with a hot-pink blush shortly after she finished.

"Pretty, pretty. Like Barbie!"

\--

Being dragged back to the room was the first chance Albert had to see where, exactly he was.

They passed a staircase as they went, and it became clear to Albert he was on the lowest floor of whatever building he was in -- perhaps a basement, based on the cement floor clattering beneath the neon pink heels Svetlana had put him in. They were tied to his ankles, so no matter how hard he tried to kick them off, they persisted.

In the darkness, Albert caught a glimpse of a few pieces of furniture covered by dust-blankets. He could identify an old piano, and some handsome paintings. 

As they rounded a corner into a narrow hall, Albert saw the door he immediately identified as that of his room. White, with plenty of locks. It was propped open, so the Ivans only needed to push through.

Upon entering, Albert immediately noticed there had been some substantial changes in the time he'd been gone.

There was now a cute, purple mesh canopy descending from the ceiling and framing the head of the bed. The string lights had been strung up properly, and more had been added, so the room was cast in a sweet, warm glow. The toys from the blue hamper decorated the dresser's top, as well as a few that had been tossed onto the bed by the pillows. Stuffed kitties, bunnies, puppies and fairies were among them.

A large, framed poster of Barbie was now on one wall, just above where his left chain was bolted in. 

And, most importantly, a mirror had been added. A nice, oval mirror. While he wouldn't have been able to see himself from the bed, Albert caught a glimpse of himself as he was pulled along the floor.

He looked _ridiculous_. 

Face painted white, lips pink, and cheeks so red it almost looked like a disease. Svetlana's handiwork with the mascara had left a lot to be desired, and a few smudges of black were present beneath his right eye. He barely looked human -- he looked like a doll a little girl had been a bit too overambitious with testing her makeup prowess on. But, Albert figured, that was perhaps the point.

Svetlana had also put him in clothes, for which Albert was almost grateful. He didn't want to be naked one single moment longer, though the extremely frilly, extremely tacky, Lolita-style dress left a lot to be desired. Puffy sleeves clung to his strong arms, and bows decorated his waist in a faux-corset design. It hung around his thighs over an impossible amount of layers of tulle, the scratchy fabric was causing his still-bare genitals to itch.

The Ivans threw him onto the bed and cuffed him. Albert didn't even bother resisting this time. 

The two tyrants loomed over him, staring him down. Growls and grunts vibrated from their chests like wild dogs, as though they were trying to keep him compliant with fear. But their heads snapped to the side and they immediately stood down when Sergei's voice bellowed into the room from down the hall.

" _ **Ostav' nas!**_ "

The Ivans strode from the room quickly, complying with the order to vacate the moment Sergei crossed the threshold. The moment the older man's gaze fell to Albert, he stopped in his tracks.

Sergei lingered at the door, adams apple bobbing as he swallowed loudly. He looked momentarily struck, unscarred eye widening and lips parting just slightly.

It took a solid dozen heartbeats before Sergei slowly closed the distance between the door and the bed, hands wringing at his waist, expression frozen. Albert had never seen him look so childishly surprised and delighted in the years he'd known him.

"You look... so pretty." He whispered, "You look just like a doll..."

Albert jerked away from his touch, but Sergei didn't seem to mind, just reaching further to make up for it. 

He tenderly brushed a piece of Albert's blond hair away from his forehead, the tousled mop unruly without any gel.

"You are so pretty..." He repeated, almost whining now, "My doll. My little doll."

Sergei took a deep, shaky breath, quickly pulling his hand away and standing up straight. He adjusted his coat, clearing his throat as though he were trying to regain his composure. 

"Sergei..." Albert dared speak, left ungagged by Svetlana so his makeup wouldn't smudge. His voice was even and firm, as though he were trying to break into whatever sane part of the older man's head may or may not have existed, "Sergei... please let me go... I want to go home..."

Sergei bristled, huffing loudly.

"This is your home!" He said, "This is your home."

"No. No it isn't."

Sergei ignored him, stuffing a hand in his pocket and retrieving another needle.

"No, no! Please! I don't like that! I don't want that anymore!" Albert cringed at the sight.

"This is different..." Sergei muttered, uncapping the syringe and grabbing one of Albert's legs with his free hand. He pulled it roughly, forcing the younger man to fall onto his back, shoving up the hem of the dress until Albert's thigh was exposed.

"This will help you be a pretty girl..."


	3. Have your Cake

There was no sense of time in the room.

No clocks, no windows, nothing to indicate how much or little time had passed. So, Albert began counting the amount of times he woke up, figuring it was a start. 

Since Sergei had last left, after injecting his leg with something unknown, Albert had counted seven sleeps.

Occasionally, one of the Ivans would come to his room with a tray of food. 

But quickly, Albert noticed that it was always the same thing. Tea and cake.

Birthday cake. Carrot cake. Chocolate cake. Cheesecake. Bundt cake. Cupcakes. Swiss roll cake. Cake. Cake. _**Cake**_.

Albert pointedly refused to eat it, clamping his painted lips shut and digging his face into a stuffed animal while the Ivan loomed over him with a forkful of the sickly sweet-smelling pastry. Eventually, the Ivan would leave, taking the tray of the offensive meal with it.

He decided he'd rather starve to death.

On the eighth sleep, he was awoken, as usual, by the sound of his door unlocking. 

But this time it wasn't Ivan holding his tray of food, It was Sergei. The man had a tepid frown on his face.

"Barbie is not eating her food."

Albert shuffled back on the bed, digging his heels into the mattress for leverage and scooting as far back as the restraints would allow.

Sergei set the tray down at the foot of the bed, picking up the small, porcelain plate of -- what else -- cake. Strawberry cream cake.

The massive man sat on the edge of the bed, carefully spooning up a morsel of the cake and holding it out towards Albert, who did as he always did and buried his head in a toy animal.

"You must eat your food, Barbie! You will get sick if you do not eat!"

Sergei inched his hand closer and closer, until the tip of the spoon collided with Albert's cheek. A bit of the whipped cream rubbed off onto his skin as Sergei continued to insist, prodding him like a child trying to force-fed a doll.

Suddenly, Albert felt one of Sergei's hands grip his jaw tightly, turning his head. Albert sealed his lips as the spoon jabbed at him again, this time more forcefully.

"Open wide, Barbie..."

Sergei squeezed his fingers into either side of Albert's jawbone, causing the muscle to release and his mouth to open. The moment his lips parted, Sergei shovelled the bite into his mouth. Albert gagged as the spoon hit the back of his mouth, but Sergei quickly applied pressure to his chin, forcing him to swallow.

Albert whimpered as the cloyingly rich cream slithered down his throat, wondering what it had been spiked with. As though he read his mind, Sergei tried to soothe him, that babyish voice returning.

"Its just cake, _malyshka_! Something just as sweet and lovely as you are. It will plump you up, too."

For what felt like the millionth time, Albert wanted to vomit.

"Good girls get cake. I know you have not been such a good girl but you have not been a bad girl, either." Sergei smiled, as though he were revealing a grand secret, "So I am bending the rules... a little bit."

Sergei spooned up a strawberry and some sponge, again prodding it at Albert's lips before the process had to be repeated -- Sergei forcing the younger man's jaw to open before stuffing the offering in. Albert begrudgingly chewed and swallowed.

"Do you want tea?" Sergei asked, not bothering to wait for an answer before he set down the plate of cake and picked up the cup. It was fancifully painted, like it were from an old, victorian collection. 

Albert was quite thirsty, and tepidly took a sip when Sergei set the rim to his lips. Once again, he almost gagged.

It was so sweet. Like _tablespoons_ of sugar had been _heaped_ into the relatively small glass of red tea. Albert was sure he could see it floating around at the bottom of the cup when he peered in.

Despite his cringing reactions to the food and drink, and the force he had to apply to get him to participate in his meal time, Sergei seemed elated with every bite Albert angrily swallowed.

After half a dozen, Albert tried to protest.

"P-please... n-no more." He hated how meek his voice sounded. It made the begging all that much worse.

"No more?" Sergei furrowed his brow, gaze darkening for a moment.

"I-I'm full, okay? I'm full." Albert felt like he was negotiating with a man completely out of his mind. In fact, he was certain Sergei was. And he couldn't help but wonder how the man had concealed the insanity he clearly harboured. 

"Oh..." Sergei peeped. He frowned for a moment, but quickly his soft smile returned, "Ah, yes. You are a little girl. You have a small belly. This is enough."

Albert was relieved when Sergei collected the tea and cake again, standing from the bed with a grunt. 

"I am sorry I have been gone for so long, Barbie. There has been much work to do."

Albert slowly sat up, wiggling against his restraints a bit. He immediately remembered the Arklay incident. How he had been en route to meet the rest of the S.T.A.R.S in the mountains when Sergei took him. He briefly wondered what became of them. 

"How long have you been gone?" Albert tried a question, wondering if he would get an answer. He tried to word it just so, in an attempt to increase his chances, "I-uh... I can't remember."

Sergei looked back towards him, unscarred eye darkening once again.

"So you did not miss me?" His voice deepened, cheek twitching, "I was gone for _five days_ and you did not even realise I was not here?"

Albert swallowed, anxiety level soaring. His heart began to beat in his throat, fear and rage warring inside of him. A part of him wanted to spit in Sergei's face and tell him he'd never miss the likes of him. Another part just wanted to soothe the man so he'd go about leaving again.

Eventually, the fear won out.

"Uh... y-yes. I did realise you were gone... I just... didn't know how long it had been since - ah - I last saw you."

"Mm..." Sergei simply grunted, pursing his lips and turning on his heels to leave the room.

It worried Albert how his expression didn't lighten. 


	4. Wide in Fright

Albert sucked in a gasped when he was instinctually forced into consciousness, eyes shooting open as though waking from a nightmare. 

Or rather, waking _into_ one.

Immediately, his eyes flicked to the left where Sergei was looming over the edge of his bed, smiling down at him. It was a toothy, wide grin. One which didn't quite make it up to his unscarred eye. The string lights dimly glowing around the room cast awful contours onto his face, shadows contorting him in a way which made Albert shiver.

Discreetly, Albert tugged at his chains a bit, confirming their presence and strength. Adrenaline immediately began coursing through his veins, his fight-or-flight response sounding alarm bells over the look on Sergei's face. He wanted to close his eyes again, pretend he was sleeping, but he knew Sergei had already seen him wake.

"You looked so lovely while you were sleeping..." Sergei said softly, "Were you having nice dreams?"

Albert didn't respond.

"I had a bad dream." Sergei continued, "That's why I came down to see you. My favourite girl -- you always made me feel better when I had bad dreams."

Albert yelped in pain when Sergei's knee suddenly lifted to set itself upon his thigh. The full weight of the man's heavy body came down upon it as he climbed up onto the bed, seemingly unconcerned for how he was crushing Albert's leg. The blond writhed beneath the pressure, chains rattling as his arms jerked and tugged at them impotently.

"S- Sergei!" He whined, femur feeling like it was on the verge of snapping. 

But just as quickly as it began, it was blissfully over. Sergei plopped onto his side, laying beside the younger man with a sigh. He wrapped his much longer legs around Albert's pained one, sandwiching it between his huge thighs. He was using a stuffed kitten as a pillow, just some of the weight of his head perched on Albert's shoulder.

Albert folded his chin into his jaw, pushing his neck back in a meek attempt to keep his face away from Sergei. But, as with every blatant protest, Sergei didn't care and acted like he wasn't doing it at all. The man's smile remained as he spoke.

"I like it when you say my name, Barbie. Do it again."

Albert swallowed hard, teeth involuntarily biting together as tightly as they could.

"It makes me feel nice."

His breath was _saturated_ with liquor. It made Albert's nose burn with every shallow inhale.

"You want to make me feel nice, don't you?"

A few seconds of silence passed, Sergei's expression teetering between happy and hopeful as he clearly waited for his human toy to speak. 

When Albert didn't, the smile on Sergei's face dropped so rapidly it was like someone flicked a switch and simply turned it off. In an instant, Albert's face was caught a tight grip, Sergei's huge fingers squeezing into his cheeks with such force he could feel his jawbone grinding and the tendons cramping.

"Why don't you talk to me, Barbie? You are always so quiet..." Sergei hissed, face inching closer to Albert's. The younger man could only gargle and whimper behind his contorted lips, "Do you not like me? Why don't you like me?"

Albert began to try and kick his unconstrained foot against Sergei's shin, attempting to dig his kitten heels into the leg, but the older man didn't falter. 

"Why don't you like me, Barbie?" Sergei repeated, voice slightly shaky, "After all I've done for you, you should be grateful. You should love me!"

The younger man gasped and coughed when Sergei's hand was suddenly withdrawn, the Russian sitting up on his knees, straddling Albert's thigh. He began to pout and mew, clutching at the hem of Albert's frilly dress.

" _Papochka_ was going to get rid of you. He was so angry... you made him so angry." 

Though still spittling and his heart beating in his throat, Albert knew Sergei was talking about Spencer. But, his alcohol-laced hypnosis, the older man was coagulating realities. Spencer was his _suddenly, dearly departed_ father, and Albert a piece of poorly-painted plastic. The blond had never felt so terrified in his life, his muscles rattling beneath his tired flesh, knowing he had no recourse for any of the consequences of the psychotic breakdown he was witnessing in real time. 

"But I couldn't let him do that to you! Not again!" Sergei whined, "I begged him! Begged him for you. I saved you... I saved you again." Quickly, his expression turned steely once more, "And you don't care. You don't even _like_ me, do you?"

Albert was practically trembling, eyes wide in fright. There was a part of him that almost wished Redfield was around to swing through the wall like Tarzan and save the day. He knew he was in a pathetic mess if he were thinking about _Chris Redfield_ as anything more than reappropriated manure pellets. 

Sergei reached down and gently touched Albert's thigh, causing the younger man to cringe away immediately. 

"N-no!" He blathered, completely unable to suppress the protest.

The older man paused, a little whimper breathing from his lips. For a moment, he almost looked _hurt --_ wincing like a teenager rejected by his crush.

"No..?" Sergei whispered.

Albert swallowed hard, wishing desperately he could lunge off the bed and run as fast and far as he could. 

"No..."

For a moment, Albert wondered if he had gotten lucky. He didn't know what was happening in Sergei's head, and he didn't care. He just hoped he'd inadvertently triggered a stop-mechanism to the ordeal he had been sure was going to play out. He hoped, just as before, Sergei would reorient himself into the borderlands of sanity and leave. But the moment was short-lived, and Albert screeched when he saw Sergei shift his weight to kneel between his legs, grabbing at the hem of his dress and jerking him down the bed firmly.

"You think I am not good enough to touch you?" Sergei snarled, the pensive look of distress gone, "You think I'm dirty, don't you?"

The moment Sergei shoved a hand beneath his dress, Albert began to beg, fully unconcerned about retaining even the slightest shred of dignity.

"No! No! Please! S-Sergei, p-please! S-- **_gahh_**!" His eyes shot open when he felt Sergei's fingers prod cruelly between his asscheeks, roughly pushing at his entrance.

"You're not even wet." Sergei observed in disgust, "You get wet for everybody else but me, don't you? Fucking **_bitch_**!"

Albert's unwilling body tried to resist, muscle clamping down hard -- but a huge finger forced its way into his hole, causing him to yelp and writhe. It was more out of disgust than it was of pain, the numb sensation of pressure aggravated heavily by the circumstances. It had been a long time since his last partner, and even then he preferred to top. He'd only been fucked a few times in his life, and found it unpleasant every time. 

Here, it was nothing but torture.

In captivity. Chained. Dressed like a sadistic little girl's idea of a toy. With _Sergei_.

He wailed and sobbed as Sergei's knuckles finally hit against his bottom, pathetic pleas bellowing from him. He dug his heels into the pink bedsheets below them, and his eyes clenched shut.

Albert gasped in relief when Sergei suddenly withdrew his finger, whimpering and whining as he prayed that hadn't been foreplay. 

Seconds later, he felt the bed shift as Sergei dismounted it, the springs creaking slightly as the tremendous weight was lifted. 

Albert dared to peer, wet eyelids squeaking open to see the older man walking towards the door in silence. 


	5. Lipstick and Lollipops (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Divided into two parts for.... digestibility.

Cake. Tea. Cake. Tea. Unknown substances injected into his thigh. Cake. Tea. Cake.

It didn't take long for Albert's life to establish some degree of a rhythm, as much as he hated it. 

Sergei didn't come back after the night he'd had a full-blown mental break in his bed, something Albert was somewhat grateful for. He had stopped resisting his feedings, and let the Ivans spoon desserts into his mouth until the porcelain ware was clean and empty. Begrudgingly, he'd developed a bit of an appetite, and he wondered if it had anything to do with whatever Sergei was giving him.

One day, after finishing his cake and tea, Albert felt familiar rumblings in his guts, his fear-stalled digestive system beginning to slowly hum to life again after adrenaline had stopped it in its tracks for days. He looked at the Ivan and tried to figure out how to communicate with it.

"I have to go to the bathroom." He said loudly, trying to awkwardly point his finger to the room behind the bed, "Bathroom."

The tyrant stared at him curiously for a moment, clicking and grumbling as it tried to process the information. After a moment, it turned and left, taking the tray with it. 

"Fuck." Albert groaned, screwing his legs and trying to focus on anything but his bodily functions. 

It wasn't long after that the door was unlocked once more, and Albert flattened his lips when he saw Svetlana waddle in, Sergei following her, and the Ivans flanked the exit the moment he entered. The old woman was holding the familiar black case of makeup, and Albert supposed he could assume what was to come next.

"Hello, pretty girl!" Svetlana mewed, rubbing a fat palm across his head like he were a cat, "Pretty girl needing wash?"

"I have to go to the bathroom." Albert huffed, eyes flicking towards Sergei, "Can't you... can't you just unchain me and I'll go? Okay? And then you can... you can dress me how you want."

Sergei muttered something to Svetlana in Russian, and the older woman nodded and backed away as he approached. Sergei pulled a small key from his pocket, and Albert was almost grateful enough that he could have thanked him.

Almost.

But he also knew it couldn't have been that easy.

Sergei unlocked one of the chains, letting the heavy metal cuff fall to the bed. He then procured a zip tie from his pocket, and tied Albert's wrists together before he unlocked his other. Albert's shoulders were numb and crackling, having been restricted to his sides for so long. 

Svetlana started speaking, and approached to fuss over Albert's dress. She undid the bows and unzipped the back as he was pulled from the bed to stand, seeming to alert Sergei to the fact his dress couldn't be removed with his hands ziptied together.

Sergei shrugged, unsheathing a knife from his boot and unceremoniously slicing through the delicate fabric of Albert's puffy sleeves. Albert jerked and flinched when the knife tore through, the blade coming dangerously close to his neck. Sergei simply smirked.

Albert stumbled as the older man led him by the shoulder into the bathroom. His legs were weak from having been bed bound, and the heels they hadn't removed along with the dress were making it difficult to walk. 

Sergei stood him in front of the toilet, but rather than letting him open the cover and sit on it, the older man gave him a curt instruction.

"Bend over."

Albert felt his blood run cold in an instant.

"W-what?"

"Bend. **_Over_**." The way the words hissed through Sergei's teeth told him it wasn't optional. There was no wiggle room. No childishness pathway was present to navigate in the syllables. He wasn't out of sorts today.

Albert complied slowly, setting his forearms on the lid of the toilet. He tried to look through his legs and over his shoulder to see if he could tell what Sergei was doing, and his worst fears were confirmed when he saw the older man unscrewing the shower-head from the long, flexible hose than ran to it. 

The blond whimpered and clenched his eyes shut when he felt the blunt opening of the hose be pressed to his entrance. It was far wider than an enema tube would have been, and certainly not intended for that function, but Albert knew protesting was a recipe for disaster. 

He clenched his teeth and grunted as Sergei finally forced the hose to pop inside of him, the feeling of his insides being scraped by the flexible, ribbed metal completely disconcerting. Sergei twisted and shoved the hose, his other hand pushing on the small of Albert's back as he did and keeping the younger man from bucking away.

"You know... I've been having an interesting dream these past few nights. Over and over." Sergei began to speak, voice soft but laced with acid.

Albert curled his fingers into his fists when he felt the hose prod at the back of his rectum, Sergei trying to force it to make the turn into his colon. The blond gasped and whined with every twist and prod, legs trembling.

"Do you want to know what my dream was?"

Sergei's hand left his back, and the poking at his insides stopped for a brief moment. Then, the sound of the taps being turned and water rushing from the tub's bath spout caused Albert's eyes to squeak open and flick over his shoulder again. Sergei had a hand beneath the water, seeming to test its temperature. He adjusted the water's speed a few times, playing with the taps. He reduced it from a mighty roar to a simple flow, checking it with his hand for another minute.

And then, he unceremoniously grabbed the shower lever and pulled it upwards, stopping the flow from the tap instantly.

Albert almost fell to his knees when he felt the water begin to flood inside of him, something Sergei immediately corrected by slipping a huge forearm beneath his hips and pulling him upwards again. He held Albert in place like that, forcing the bend at his waist to be even more dramatic than it had been when he was standing on his own.

" _Gahhh_!" Albert sobbed in pain, the water bloating his colon feeling like it was causing every muscle in his abdomen to cramp.

"So about my dream..." Sergei sighed loudly, standing straighter. Albert's feet were almost lifted from the ground as he did. "I dreamt that my little girl said _no_ to me."

Albert could barely focus on his words, so engrossed in the horrible sensations churning at his innards.

"Now... I _know_ that must have been a dream, because you would never say no to me, would you, Barbie?" He paused for a moment before he chuckled, "Ah... I realise that is a bad question. But I will give you permission to say _no_ for this. Just once."

The blond could see his stomach beginning to stretch, a little sloshy bump appearing at his lower belly.

"So I will say it again, and now you know the rules, _da_?" Sergei cleared his throat, adjusting the tube in Albert's hole for a moment, "I know that must have been a horrible, _horrible_ dream because you would _**never**_ say _no_ to me... would you, Barbie?"

"No! N--n--no..." Albert blathered, using the opportunity to vocalise what he truly felt rather than answering the question.

"That was two _no's_ , _malyshka!_ I said _one._ " Sergei laughed, "But I understand you are eager to soothe me, so I will let it slip. I am glad we could come to an understanding."

Sergei set Albert down carefully, waiting for the younger man to find his grounding before walking towards the taps and turning them off. 

Albert was a quivering, whimpering mess. He sobbed into his forearms, curled over the toilet seat in humiliation and pain. Sergei sighed contently, unscarred eye combing up the trembling, pale legs. He licked his lips as he lingered on the sight of Albert's round bum, high in the air. The soft, fatty cheeks conformed around the shower hose's exit from between them.

"You are very beautiful, princess." He said softly, ignoring Albert's obvious discomfort, "I am glad we will have time to spend together tonight."

Albert barely had a moment to process the words before Sergei's hand fell to his shoulder, lifting him.

"Stand up carefully." Sergei said, one of his hands gripping at the hose to ensure it didn't fall out, "Just a few minutes and then you can do what is needed."

When he noticed the obvious distention in Albert's stomach, Sergei grinned widely.

" _Kak milo_!" He chirped, "Svetlana, _podoydi posmotri_!"

The fat woman waddled into the bathroom seconds later, coming to inspect what she was called to see. 

"Aww!" She mewed, patting Albert's belly softly, "You look like a mama!"

Albert sobbed as the fluid in his guts was shifted around with every rough touch.

"One day pretty girl will have pretty babies, _da_?" Svetlana looked at Sergei hopefully.

" _Da_."


	6. Lipstick and Lollipops (Part 2)

Albert sat on his bed, silent and numb. He had no more tears left to cry, and no thoughts but the primitive assessment of his own physical state swirled through his head.

His belly still ached from the enema, and the pain was only aggravated by the overly-tight corset of the dress Svetlana had put him in.

It was a wedding dress. White and lacy, delicate and sheer. She'd even affixed a veil to his neatly-parted hair, letting the filter of white drape over his face after she'd finished painting it.

She'd given him something -- a pill. In her broken English, she insisted it would help him. He'd taken it quietly, knowing it was pointless to resist this deep into the hell he was in, and perversely praying she was right. He hoped it was a painkiller. 

She'd left him unchained. But despite that, the door was locked and he didn't have the code. He'd thought about trying, but worried it would be affixed to an alarm that would alert Sergei. Even if he did manage to get out, he knew from years of experience as a soldier and police officer that there was nothing worse for speed than trying to navigate a space one had no previous knowledge of.

Albert noticed Svetlana left her black pouch behind, and he curiously dumped out the contents on his bed, wondering if there was anything of use inside. But the pouch offered nothing but makeup -- tubes of lipstick and mascara, eyeliner, eyeshadow and face powders. The only non-makeup item inside was the bottle of pills she'd given him one from. He looked it over, but was unable to read the Russian and Chinese text. 

"Fuck it..." He mumbled, opening the bottle and taking out a few more. He unceremoniously lifted his veil and popped them into his mouth, unconcerned for what they were. Best case scenario, he overdosed and died. Worst, they did what Svetlana said they'd do and _help_ him _._ Either way, it didn't quite matter.

Not a few minutes had passed before Albert began to feel warm. 

_Very_ warm.

"O-oh..." He swallowed, trying to assess what was happening to him. It suddenly felt as though he had a fever, and his breaths felt deep and hollow. Alfred slowly laid back on his pillows, feeling dizzy and disoriented as the heat continued to swell through him. As his spine began to tickle and hips sunk, he realised what the drug was.

It was an _aphrodisiac_. 

"F-fuck..." Albert mewed, setting the heel of his palm to his head and trying to combat the waves of blood rushing to all the wrong places, "Shit."

He whimpered when he heard the door's locks beginning to open, one-by-one. 

When Sergei entered, he had his hand behind his back. He stopped at the threshold, unscarred eye widening in delight. Albert was sure he saw a _blush_ come over the older man's cheeks. This Sergei had no darkness in his unscarred eye, no malice or cruelty. He was a bit softer. More child-like. Perhaps, Albert hoped, more _pliable_. 

"Oh..." Sergei peeped, Adams apple bobbing over the collar of his white dress shirt, "My... _malyshka_ , you look so beautiful. I am so lucky."

Albert snarled behind his veil, hoping it obscured some of the disgust on his face.

Sergei pulled his hand from behind his back, revealing he was holding a massive bouquet of pink roses, "I brought you these... But I think you are much prettier."

Albert watched his cock slowly form a tent in his dress, utterly appalled at his own body's betrayal of his situation. He internally chastised himself for taking the extra pills, wondering how he'd been so incredibly stupid as to possibly believe they could have been pain killers.

Sergei strode up to the bed and offered him the roses, waiting patiently until Albert finally snatched them. He addressed the bulge in Albert's hips with a smile.

" _Malyshka_... you seem very excited for our honeymoon, yes?"

Albert yelped when Sergei's hand suddenly ran over the tent in his dress, palm skirting the tip of Albert's erection. Sergei giggled happily as Albert's hips involuntarily bucked, going to repeat his gesture before Albert swiftly swatted his hand with the roses.

Sergei looked up, surprised. 

As the older man's brow began to furrow, lips slowly sinking down into a dark frown, Albert realised he had to think quickly. There was no way he was getting out of whatever was going to happen tonight, and he knew resistance would be painfully futile. 

"T-thats no way to treat y-your wife!" He said, wanting to slap a hand over his mouth.

Sergei's eyebrows and the corners of his lips popped back up. He blinked a few times, processing slowly.

"Perhaps you are right..." He hummed, "I should not tease you. I am sorry, sweetheart."

Sergei began to unbutton his shirt, not even bothering to take it off before he worked on his belt, "We should just begin, then? I realise you are eager to consummate our marriage."

Albert peeped, trying desperately to fight through his drug-induced, lusty haze to decide what to do next. But every possible coherent thought melted out of his ears when Sergei pulled out his cock, Albert never having seen an organ so gruesomely massive in his life.

It was going to split him in half. There was no way it was't going to _ruin_ him. And while his brain reeled at the thought of that thing stuffing itself into his body, the drugs pumping through his system were forcing him to _salivate_ at the sight. 

"W-wait!" Albert screeched, just as Sergei went to mount the bed. The older man tilted his head to the side, curious. "Y-you brought lubricant, didn't you?"

"Lubricant?"

"Y-yeah! Lubricant. You don't want to... to break me, do you?"

Sergei was silent.

"You don't want to break your Barbie... r-right? Y-you love your Barbie. That's why you... married me?"

Sergei paused for another moment before nodding, "Yes... yes I do." He looked around for a moment, "Do you have any?"

Albert huffed, relived he'd bypassed his fate for another minute. His eyes floated to the pile of makeup at the end of the bed -- the crap he'd dumped out of Svetlana's forgotten pouch. 

The scientist in him forced him to snatch the tube of lipstick. Lipstick was wax and oil-based. It would melt with enough body heat. He uncapped it and held it up to Sergei. 

"This."

Sergei laughed loudly, almost acting like it was a joke.

" _Malyshka_ \-- that is lipstick."

"Yeah but..." Albert sighed, "Just let me..."

He unscrewed the red paint until it was fully unsheathed from the plastic case, breaking it off and mushing the stick in his hand. As he thought, it began to soften between his fingers. He took a deep breath, nose screwing in disgust, before reaching out and beginning to slather it on Sergei's proffered cock, something that made the older man peep in surprise.

"O-oh... Barbie, you are very eager indeed." He breathed, watching Albert run the thick, red makeup up and down his shaft.

The blond was somewhat hypnotised by the colour he was staining Sergei's cock. He couldn't help but think that, had the older man been in any different a headspace, it might have been his blood that was reddening the massive member. 

The warmth of Sergei's cock was helping thin the lipstick and it was spreading more easily, letting Albert stroke a bit faster. Above him, Sergei was mewing happily, thoroughly enjoying the messy, utilitarian hand job. For a moment, Albert wondered if he could force the man to completion like that -- perhaps avoid the _ordeal_ altogether.

But the way Sergei's cock twitched beneath his fingers was going straight to his own hips, his drug-induced erection still raging under the tulle of the wedding gown. Discreetly, Albert began to knead himself through the white fabric, belly immediately fluttering as he finally afforded himself some attention.

He knew he should be ashamed of himself. He just didn't have the energy. Sergei's voice cut him out of his mental stupor, Albert's eyes flicking upwards to meet the older man's gaze.

"Rubbing your clit already?" He smiled, "You are that needy, hmm? Don't worry, Barbie, your husband will take good care of you."

In an instant, Albert was being forced onto his back. He gasped, falling into his pile of stuffed animals as Sergei pushed him down, climbing onto the bed between his legs as he did.

Sergei flipped the hem of his dress up quickly, burying Albert in a tidal wave of the white fabric and lace.

Albert's mind began to swirl as his feverishly hot manhood was exposed to the cool air of the room. He couldn't suppress a loud moan when he felt Sergei's fingers grip it, tightly squeezing.

"My! _Malyshka_... your clit is so swollen... It is so unbecoming for a pure princess like you to look this _whorish_." He squeezed a bit tighter, sending Albert's eyes rolling behind his fluttering lids, hips bucking upwards, "But I understand... You really love me, don't you? You want me?"

He squeezed impossibly tighter when Albert didn't immediately respond. 

"Oh--fuh-- yes! Yes!" Albert nodded frantically, toes curling in his kitten heels, "I do! I do!"

Sergei loosened his grip, chuckling, "I do? You sound like you did when you were at the alter." He purred, stroking slightly, "Everyone thought you looked so pretty. No one could believe you were really agreeing to be my wife... That I could ever be so lucky."

Sergei released his grip, setting his hands on either side of Albert's shoulders. Gently, he lifted a hand to pull Albert's veil away.

"I want to see you while I take you. I want to see your pretty face."

Albert whimpered when he felt the head of Sergei's cock prod at his entrance. He clenched his teeth and hoped the lipstick would be enough to soften the blow.

"You look worried about something, Barbie. What for?"

Albert yelped in pain when Sergei thrusted, unceremoniously forcing himself to puncture his tight, twitching hole.

"Shhh, _malyshka_... shhh..." Sergei stroked through his hair roughly, "My princess is delicate, hmm? She is so delicate."

While the lipstick slicked the entrance somewhat, it was still excruciating. Albert could feel his rectum stretching with every inch Sergei slid, his walls threatening to tear. He tried desperately to relax himself, shaky huffs passing through his nose.

He hated it. He hated every second of it.

And yet...

Humiliation swelled inside of his chest as he involuntarily rolled his head into Sergei's warm breath. He shivered in delight when Sergei's belly scraped against his cock. He mewed when he felt Sergei's thick shaft crushing his prostate. His drug-induced pleasure was slowly breaking through the pain, giving him a short second of reprieve for every few seconds of agony.

Albert decided the shame of this was going to kill him. Even if he somehow escaped -- even if he somehow made it back to humanity -- even if he somehow was able to move on with his life one day, he could never get his dignity back. 

When Sergei issued his first thrust, Albert caught himself making a sound that was perfectly halfway between a moan and a whimper. 

Maybe Svetlana was right. Maybe the pills would help. 

"S-Sergei!" 

"Yes, my love?"

"Can y-you touch m-my..."

"Hmm?"

Albert grit his teeth, "My clit! Can you touch my clit, pl-please?"

"Of course, my love."

The younger man grunted as he felt Sergei's hand slip between them, kneading his leaking cock in the same rhythm as his thrusts. He could just barely hear the lipstick _lube_ squelching as Sergei started to slam into his body aggressively, finding a quick, forceful rhythm. Albert could feel the same awful, disconcerting sensation he experienced during his enema coming back, the head of Sergei's cock prodding the very back of his guts. 

Sergei began to pant heavily, nose burying itself in Albert's blush-dusted cheek.

"You look so pretty, Barbie..." He mewed gently, "So-- pretty. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Albert set his hands on Sergei's waist, trying his best to sound sweet. "C-can you n-not go so deep? I-it hurts."

"Of course, my love." Sergei slowed his thrusts, and Albert instantly melted with relief as the discomfort of having his colon hammered dissipated. "Anything else?"

The blond's eyes fluttered shut, trying desperately to focus on the way his prostate was being stimulated and ignoring everything else. For a moment, he almost thought he’d be able to get through this.

"N-no."

"Are you sure?"

"Y-yes."

"I just want you to be happy... Because I love my wife very much. She is so pure and cute..."

Albert's eyes shot open when he felt one of Sergei's hands wrapping itself around his throat.

"It's just a shame she ended up being such a **_manipulative_** little **_bitch_**."

Albert gasped when he felt himself be jerked up, Sergei sitting back on his knees and ripping him from the bed as he did. His massive hand clamped down tightly on Albert's throat, using it as a grip, but not relenting when he had Albert up on his lap. Albert writhed, having sunk down on Sergei's cock during the shift in position. He could feel the cock fully sheathed inside of him now, but he could do nothing but gargle and heave pathetically. His hands tried to pull at Sergei's wrist, but it was a useless effort.

"You don't think I know what the fuck you have been doing?!" Sergei growled, "Lying! Lying this whole time!"

Oxygen was getting drastically thin.

" ** _Do you think I'm stupid_**?! That I couldn't see how disgusted you are of me?!" His face was reddening in rage as he continued to squeeze, feeling tendons crunch beneath his grip but not caring, "That I didn't see how you had to take drugs to get aroused around me?! How you were _acting_ , getting me to do what you wanted?!"

Darkness was ghosting into the corner's of Albert's vision, his arms flopping down to his sides, too weak to continue their meek resistance. 

"Am I so putrid to you?! You can't even **_act_** like you love me without showing me how you really feel?!"

Sergei's words became more and more distant, fading into a loud, high-pitched ring that seemed to blare through every neuron in Albert's brain. The last thing his hazy mind could sense was the smallest fragrance of roses, wafting into his nose along with air that couldn't get to where it needed to go.

And then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pointless lore for this fic (that will literally not show up later so who cares if I tell you): The code to the Albert's door is 3959. March 3, 1959 was the day the first Barbie was released to the world at the American Toy Fair.
> 
> This chapter's idea of lipstick as lube came directly from the lovely Misch3fbunni3 who suggested something along these lines. I tweaked it slightly, so I hope it turned out alright. HOWEVER, their other, extremely devious idea shall be making an appearance within the next two chapters, as I have figured out finally how to incorporate it. Stay tuned. *puts on sunglasses* 
> 
> This chapter also included the husband/wife theme which I was inspired by the equally as lovely SweetNSimple and their story by that name. OBVIOUSLY in theirs, they had those weird things like "consent," and "love," and "mutual respect," which I don't know what those mean so if you want to learn what those are, go read their amazing fics!


	7. Cake Batter

Albert was perversely grateful when Sergei didn't chain him up after.

He stumbled into the bathroom the moment the older man left, unable to even make it to the toilet before vomit began spewing out of his lips. He tossed his head into the sink, wretching up the contents of his stomach. He wretched even harder when he tasted the acid-covered sweetness of whatever was the last cake he'd eaten.

When there was nothing left to puke, he stripped himself with shaky hands. Red lipstick trailed down his legs, tulle stuck to the waxy smudges on his sore ass. Humiliation began to swell inside of him as he realised what a pathetic show he'd tried to put on, and how disgustingly it had backfired. He had surrendered his dignity for no reason.

He wanted it off.

He wanted it off.

He needed it **_off_**.

Albert turned the bathtub on as hot as he could stand it, filling the tub before stepping in after he managed to find a way to snap the thin leather strap that held his kitten heels on and liberating his feet from them.

He drank from the tap, uncaring about how hot it was. He wanted to scald his tongue and throat clean. 

There was no soap in the bathroom, but he scrubbed and scrubbed with water. He grabbed the hem of his wedding dress, dipping it in and using it like a sponge, scraping his thighs bare. No matter how hard he scrubbed, the red lipstick still stained, and he began to sob uncontrollably the moment he realised it wasn't going to simply disappear. 

He sat in the water as his fingers pruned and the heat made him dizzy, and he continued to sit more long after. He didn't want to leave it. He wanted to fall asleep, sink beneath the water, and die. 

But, as always, he wasn't so lucky.

"Pretty girl! Pretty girl, where are you?" 

Svetlana's jovial voice sing-songed through the room, the steam coming from the bathroom leading her in moments later. She smiled when she saw him, nodding.

"Oh, okay! Clean! Yes." She said, holding up a piece of white, silky material, "I put on bed. You wear after. Okay?"

Albert ignored her, head lulling into the wall beside him. 

He was sure he drifted off at one point, waking when the water was cooly lapping at his skin. With no degree of trepidation, he rose from the tub, using his wedding dress like a bathmat to dry his feet before entering the bedroom again. 

The first thing he noticed was the silky, white babydoll lain out on the bed.

The second thing he noticed was the wide open door.

His first instinct was to treat it as a trap, and he eyed it with the utmost suspicion. Albert didn't want to put on the neglige, but he pulled it over his head regardless, knowing it was better than being naked.

Cautiously, he approached the door, head popping through the frame curiously. 

He looked down the short hall that led to his room, listening for a moment before proceeding. As he rounded the corner, he saw the staircase leading up to the first floor. A warm, comforting orange light was glowing at the top, and Albert could just faintly hear the clattering of dishes and pang of pots. He took a moment to look around the basement, trying to find anything that he could use as a weapon -- but just as he considered breaking an old picture frame, he heard Svetlana call him from the top of the stairs.

"Barbie!" She said, eyes catching him standing at the bottom like a deer in headlights.

Albert swallowed hard, unsure if he had just been caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. But Svetlana simply smiled, and waved her hand.

"Barbie, come! Come here!"

Still cautious and confused, Albert slowly ascended the stairs. The old hardwood creaked beneath his bare feet loudly as he climbed, Svetlana waiting for him at the top of the stairs. 

When he arrived, she took off, turning on her flat shoes and waddling around the corner. Albert looked around as he followed her, taking in the new sights. 

A perfectly domestic abode. Old, dark hardwood floors glistened like they'd just been waxed. The furniture seemed equally as old -- tufted dark leathers, handsome oak bookshelves, fancy bone china painted plates hanging on the walls. 

There was a door. The front door. He could see it, jeering at him from the distance. The stained glass on the door obscured the outside, and all of the windows he could see had their curtains drawn. Albert knew the door couldn't possibly have been open, and it was a significant risk to try.

Albert rounded the corner into what was obviously a large kitchen, Svetlana holding out a chair for him at the large, round table. He sat, wincing slightly as he applied pressure to his sore bottom. Before him, on the linen placemat, was a dish of cake and a cup of tea. 

"Eat! Eat!" Svetlana encouraged before making her way to a counter that was almost as tall as she was. She began frantically stirring the contents of a bowl, huge wooden spoon causing puffs of white flour to cloud up around her.

 _'Surely, there has to be a knife in here. Something. Something I can use.'_ Albert thought to himself desperately, glancing over each of his shoulders a few times. They appeared to be alone. 

He slowly stood from the chair, slipping a bit closer to Svetlana. His eyes began to scan the drawers, wondering which might contain what he sought. But Svetlana quickly noticed him, her eyes softening.

"Barbie! You want help _babushka_?" She mewed, setting a fat little hand on the small of his back and pulling him closer. She thrust a spoon into his hand, and directed him towards the stove where a pot of caramel was bubbling away, "Stir! Stir!" She encouraged.

She watched him for a moment as he tepidly dipped the spoon into the boiling sugar, scraping it around the pot in slow circles. His eyes kept flicking back towards her, seeking approval. She sighed contently, grinning with her gaped teeth.

"You will be good wife for _polkovnik_." She mused, turning back to her bowl and beginning to stir again. She was obviously making cake batter.

As the woman bobbed and bounced, signing and humming, a peculiar _tinkling_ began to flutter into Albert's ears.

 ** _Keys_**.

They just barely caught the light, hanging from Svetlana's apron with a little clip.

Albert became singularly focused on those keys, blue eyes following the way they danced at her hip. The shiny metal almost invited him to snatch them. Albert looked over his shoulder again, confirming they were still alone. He took a deep breath, knowing he'd have little time to act once he had them in his possession. 

There were so many things that could have gone wrong, he knew. The keys may not even have been for the front door. The front door might be locked in some other way. It might not be locked at all. There might be guards. Dogs. Cameras. Alarms. 

He knew his way around the entire Arklay region. So long as he could get outside -- he was sure he could make it to safety.

In one fluid motion, Albert swung the pot of caramel, dumping it all over Svetlana's head.

Svetlana screeched in agony as the boiling sugar bubbled into her skin. But Albert didn't care, he reached for the keys, ripping them from her apron as the old woman fell, clutching her smouldering face. 

And then he ran. 

He darted for the door as fast as he could, fumbling the set in his clumsy fingers. He first tested the door's handle first, and found it wouldn't budge. There were three keys on the link, and he prodded the lock with the first, quaking when it didn't enter.

Sergei's voice calling from some upper floor made his blood run cold, and he whimpered as he continued to try, moving on to the next key.

" _Svetlana? Chto proizoshlo, baba_?"

Footsteps. Getting closer. 

Albert preyed the last key would work, and he almost squealed when it went in. He turned the lock, ripping the door open and flinging himself through the frame and into the night outside.

He couldn't help but pause for a moment. The cool air smelled heavily of salt, and it threw him off guard. He could hear waves crashing against stones and shoreline. He looked around impotently in the darkness for a clue as to where he was.

Raccoon City was no where near the ocean. 

" _Svetlana_?"

Sergei's voice threw him into a frenzy, and he began to scramble to make distance between him and the house. 

He almost tripped when his feet his the stone-tiled pathway in front of the house, untried legs atrophied from an unknown amount of time without any use and feeling shaky on the uneven ground. But he forced them to move -- left, right, left, right -- almost speaking it aloud like he was a child who had just learned. He continued down the dark pathway, whining when he saw a tall, wrought-iron gate emerge into his line of vision. 

Albert grabbed the bars of the gate, confused when he didn't see any apparent way to open it. 

A light in the high distance caught his eye, an unmistakable structure barely contoured by the moonlight looming. Rapidly, it became obvious where he was.

Rockfort Island. 

"How the ff--" He began to sputter, whimpering pathetically. 

Rockfort Island was easily an 8-hour flight from Arklay. The drugs William had been instructed to give him at the facility must have been an extraordinarily powerful sedative.

So shocked by the realisation of his location, Albert didn't notice that Sergei had closed the distance between them until he felt a powerful hand rip through his hair. The blond screeched in pain as he felt some follicles being torn from his scalp, Sergei roughly jerking him from his feet, letting him drop to the ground.

" _ **What the fuck do you think you are doing**_?!" The older man bellowed, cheeks red with rage. He unceremoniously began to drag him back towards the house, using his hair as a grip. 

Albert could only yelp and sob, clawing desperately at Sergei's fingers as the man's tight clutch threatened to scalp him bare.

He was thrown into the house like a rag doll, collapsing onto the floor with a yelp of pain. His head was spinning as he heard the door slam behind them, the floor almost shaking under the force of Sergei's boots stepping closer. Albert could just barely hear Svetlana still whimpering in pain from the kitchen as Sergei came to loom over him, filling his entire line of vision with his furious, scarred face. 

"You... ungrateful **_bitch_**." Sergei hissed, spittle flying from his lips as he spoke, "You horrible, **_evil_** cunt. Do you have **_no_** fucking shame?!"

Sergei shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a needle.

"I tried! I **_tried_** so **_fucking_** hard!" He whined to himself, lips twitching in outrage, "Why? Why couldn't you just listen?! Why couldn't you just be a good, decent woman and **_love me_** like you are supposed to?!"

The plastic cap of the syringe clattered to the ground as Sergei shakily ripped it off.

"I will never love you. Ever." Albert blathered. There was a part of him that simply did not care anymore. It had become clear as day to him the previous night that not a single thing he could do would ensure safe navigation of the muddy waters that was Sergei's mental minefield, and if it was the last thing he did, he decided would speak his mind.

"I fucking **_hate_** you. I've always hated you. I always will _**hate**_ you!"

The needle stabbed into his neck with so much force that Albert was sure it had punctured something vital. He gasped and choked, gurgling as the fluid was rapidly injected into his muscles.

His vision began to fade rapidly, darkness creeping in through the corners. Everything felt heavy, and he sunk into the floor slowly, eyes fluttering shut.

"We'll see about that."


	8. Pretty Princess (Part 1)

When Albert awoke, he knew he wasn't in his room.

The lights were too bright. They had a majestic, yellow glow. One which almost felt comforting.

Almost.

His hazy eyes rolled as the room tilted and swayed, feeling so dizzy he thought he might throw up. Slowly, things began climbing into focus.

First, the floor beneath his feet. It was only when he glanced down that he realised he was in an upright, standing position. It wasn't hardwood nor the laminate of his own room. It was a rich, velvety red carpet with thick, luxurious pile.

Albert dopily looked up, where he noticed his arms were raised far above his head. His wrists were locked to handsomely-carved, wooden posts, one on each side of his body. He tugged experimentally on them, but found they had no give at all. They were likely what had held him up the whole time he was unconscious. 

While his eyes were directed upwards, he saw the chandelier looming over his head -- crystal sparkling with every little twitch of his eyes. 

And then, voices finally began to penetrate his ears.

"And... and she--she...! D-did you _see_ what she did to Svetlana!"

"I know, my love, I know... It's absolutely awful."

"She is going to be in the hospital for ages! My _baba_!"

"My sweet, sweet little boy, don't cry... It's going to be okay."

One was undoubtedly Sergei. The man sounded distressed in a way Albert had never heard him -- heaving, whining, sobbing. He sounded like a child having a depressive tantrum. 

The other was strangely familiar, but Albert couldn't quite put his mind's finger on it.

Soft. Accented. Delicate. Feminine.

Still dizzy, Albert's eyes panned the huge, ornate room, searching for where the voices were coming from. They sounded close, and sure enough he quickly noticed Sergei seated in an armchair on the other side of the room, face buried in the bosom of some unknown person who was standing beside him.

Whoever it was donned a skimpy, pink mini dress that glistened in the light as though it were made of a shiny leather or PVC. Long, straight blond hair cascaded over their shoulders, some of it pinned back with a bow that matched the colour and material of the dress. They were stroking long, gloved fingers through Sergei's silver locks, mewing gently in soothe.

"There, there... It's going to be okay. Your princess is going to make it all better, I promise."

Albert's breath hitched in his throat when a pair of unmistakable blue eyes suddenly darted towards him like bullets. 

"A-Alfred?!" Albert's mew of surprise was barely above a whisper, voice raspy and hoarse from the swelling in his neck the needle's puncture had caused.

The Sixth Earl Ashford gently lifted Sergei from his chest, patting the back of his head a few times before breaking away, turning on his impressively high platform heels and slowly beginning to close the distance between them in confident, playful steps.

"Are you ill?" Alfred asked. His clear lipgloss glittered as he spoke, voice still soft, "Are you... disturbed? Slow? Stupid?"

Albert swallowed hard. There was a darkness in Alfred's ocean-blue eyes that reminded him of Sergei at his lowest. It was cruel and maniacal, as though an unfettered, uncontrollable current was flowing beneath the surface of his pretty, porcelain skin.

Alfred stopped when he was just a foot away, wrapping his arms across his chest and staring, awaiting an answer to his question.

"A-Alfred, l-liste--"

The slap was so quick Albert barely had a moment to process it was coming. He gasped as his head was flung to the side, the tendons stretching and his spinal disks crackling from the force of the open-palmed smack, Alfred's gloves not softening the impact in the slightest.

"What kind of **_demented whore_** hurts a kindly old woman?! Hmm?!" Alfred spat, clearly getting angrier by the second, "What the hell is wrong with you?! Look how you've upset him!" Alfred cast an arm back, pointing at Sergei.

The older man was scooping up his tears with the heel of a hand, lips trembling in a pout. He looked like an infant, so far removed from any of the cruelty he'd inflicted or threatened to inflict -- completely regressed into some other state. Even when he spoke, his peep was thin and meek, accented by sniffles and whines.

"N-no, she's not a wh-whore. She's not... She's m-my Barbie!"

Alfred cast a soft glance over his shoulder, voice smoothing instantaneously, "Shhh, it's okay, sweetie. I know you love her but she doesn't understand that yet." The moment he turned back, his face steeled again, "Do you, _whore_?"

Albert decided he was in hell. He'd died -- somehow, somewhere beneath Arklay, and now was living eternity in a torturous dreamscape where everyone was psychotic and nothing made sense. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it. He wracked his mind thinking of his worse sins. He'd never been a particularly _good_ person, but _surely_ he didn't deserve _this_.

Alfred huffed a deep breath through his nose, smoothing out his shiny dress. "He told me what you said. How cruel! What an awful wench you are! After all he's done for you... After how hard he's taken care of you? After how much he's tried to love you?"

" _ **L-love me**_?!" Albert felt like laughing hysterically, "Love me?! He-he **_kidnapped_** me! H-he fucking **_raped_** me!"

Sergei began to sob louder at his outburst, mewling like he were hurt by the words.

"It's m-my fault sh-she doesn't l-love me!" He bawled, "I-it's m-my fault..."

Alfred immediately scuffled over to him quickly, wrapping his lean arms around the much larger man's head and hugging him closely. 

"Shhh! Shh! It's okay, my little, sweet boy. Please don't cry." Alfred soothed, rocking slightly, "This isn't your fault at all! She's clearly insane."

To that, Albert truly did laugh. He couldn't control it, as though the simultaneous feeling of wanting to both cry and scream could come out as nothing _but_ a laugh.

" _ **I'm insane**_?! Me?! I'm the insane one?!" Albert screeched, "How the fuck am I the insane one?!"

Alfred continued to dote on Sergei, planting tender kisses on his forehead.

"Sweet boy, I think you should go for now." Alfred said to him gently, "Go have the chef make you something to eat. Rest. You're probably hungry and exhausted, neglecting yourself while trying to take care of this horrid _cunt_."

"B-but..."

"Shh, just go on. Let pretty princess deal with things. You can come back when you feel better, okay?" 

Sergei nodded, sniffling and slowly moving to stand. He absolutely dwarfed Alfred when he did, it looking almost comical how the much smaller man was still trying to soothe the giant toddler. 

Alfred ushered him out of the room, lingering at the doorframe as he seemed to watch him leave down the hall. He blew a kiss and pretended to catch one, holding it against his chest before he closed the door.

In an instant, the small smile that had been on his face was gone.

" _He kidnapped me_ ~" Alfred mewed mockingly, pitching his voice like a baby, " _He waped me_ ~" He scoffed loudly, again closing the distance between them. His head was high, his back was straight, and his shoulders were dropped. Every _breath_ that huffed from his perfectly proportioned nose was condescending. 

"So he gives you his home and his cock and you're _still_ ungrateful?" Alfred asked, almost disbelieving.

Albert grunted in pain when Alfred's fingers suddenly snaked through his hair, tugging on his already sensitive scalp. The younger man leaned in closely, until his breath whispered across Albert's lips.

"He went so easy on you, too. Thinking you were the little Barbie of his dreams. That you'd just listen and love him back." Alfred smirked, "As if _Albert Wesker_ would just fall in line."

Albert winced in pain, confused at the words that were writhing their way into his brain. It had been so long since someone had actually said his name.

"I told him you'd be a headache. But he was so excited to finally have you, he wasn't thinking clearly. It was like Santa Claus had come to town."

Alfred sighed, releasing Albert's head with an aggressive jerk.

"I knew he'd need me at some point!" The aristocrat continued, licking his glossy lips, "But unfortunately for you -- I don't have the same kind of patience for uppity whores."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incorporating Alfred into this HOT MESS was 100% Misch3fbunni3's idea, and I thank them greatly for their generous perversions.


	9. Pretty Princess (Part 2)

"Oh, Barbie, stop snivelling. You did this to yourself."

**_CRACK_ **

Albert screamed when the bullwhip sliced into his belly, eyes shooting wide in agony. Thoughts were just white flashes of burning flames, tendrils of unimaginable heat licking at his brain. 

He blathered and sobbed between every lash, head falling back as he wailed. His restraints clattered against where they were held high on the bedpost, arms thrashing and body buckling into the footboard behind him. Albert wanted to simply collapse, but he couldn't, wrists bound above his head keeping him standing without the reprieve of fainting away.

It felt like his skin was being ripped off in every contact the braided leather had against it. His stomach felt so warm, tight, and numb -- and he knew he was rapidly bruising beneath the wall of inflamed flesh. 

_**CRACK** _

Alfred wielded the short, heavy bullwhip with the casualness of total mastery. He let it rest against his shoulder when it wasn't in use, preparing for the next lash by flicking the long, blond trusses of his wig out of his eyes and taking a deep, long breath through his nose.

His eyes ran over Albert's abdomen, deciding where to bare down next. 

Albert's chest was an abstract canvas of red stripes and blossoming grey bruises. Some of the skin had broken, letting tiny pearls of blood bead along the length of the lashing. Alfred was particularly proud of a strike he'd delivered almost bulls-eye across the other man's nipples. But Albert seemed particularly sensitive around his belly, and Alfred decided to strike there next.

As much as he wanted to beat the _uppity whore_ into oblivion for his disrespect, Albert wasn't his property to destroy. He belonged to Sergei, and he knew it would upset his _sweet boy_ if his doll was ruined beyond repair. 

_**CRACK** _

When the whip struck against his belly for what felt like the millionth time, Albert screeched in agony.

"J-ju-jus-t-o-op!" He babbled stupidly, a half-formed, ragged plea rasping from his sore throat. 

_**CRACK** _

Alfred laughed loudly, dealing his next lash faster than he would have just to spite the other man and his pathetic begging. 

"You didn't even say please! Rude!" He cackled cruelly, "Where are your _fucking_ manners?"

He licked his glossy lips, twirling the whip cutely as he watched Albert writhe and bawl. With a tilt of his head and a purse of his lips, Alfred raised the whip again, this time aiming for Albert's fully exposed genitals.

"If you're going to beg... beg _properly!_ "

_**CRACK** _

Albert's sobbing stopped in an instant, lips gaping into a silent scream.

His eyes widened and awful, guttural noises bubbled from his throat along with a string of saliva that trickled down from his bottom lip. 

The pain was so intense it was almost impossible to react to it. Albert's brain temporarily lapsed, every thought dissipating for a short moment like nerves had skipped a signal. His head dropped down, knees quaking and body feeling limp and incapable of holding its own weight. If it hadn't been for the restraints, he would have been a quivering heap of sore flesh on the floor. 

Blank eyes trained downwards, Albert didn't even notice what Alfred was doing and barely heard him scuffling about the room. That was, until he saw a very distinct object suddenly come into his line of vision, Alfred holding pushing the bunt end of a massage want towards his reddened, twitching cock.

"N-n..."

The vibrations began immediately, trembling up his bruised shaft and electrifying into his pelvis. Albert tried to lull his head back, a deep, animalistic gasp heaving through his chest, but Alfred quickly set a hand on the back of his head, forcing him to keep watching. 

"Don't look away, Barbie!" Alfred sneered loudly, "I want you to watch your abused little clit get hard now."

"N-no... n-no... p... p..."

Alfred prodded the massager in aggressively, using his thumb to turn the dial on the wand's handle until the vibration increased. 

" _Puh_?" Alfred mewed, " _Puh_ \--?"

Albert's mind went blank again, bruised belly fluttering as involuntary sensations pulsated through his muscles. He watched his cock bob slightly, body unable to resist reacting despite the pain he was in.

He didn't want this. He didn't want to get an erection _here_ , after all that had happened. Shame was already building inside of him, and he whimpered stupidly as he saw his lashed cock begin to harden.

Every tremble of the tightening skin was causing the blossoming bruise there to make him want to scream in agony, but the pain was quickly chased by a moment of pleasure as the vibrations hiccupped through him. It was as though the two sensations were at war with each other inside his body.

"P-pl... ple..."

" _Pleeee_ \-- come on. You're almost there!"

Alfred turned up the vibration again, twisting the dial to the highest possible setting. It immediately caused Albert's hips to buck wildly, and the bedposts groaned under the strain of the sudden jerk.

"P-pleas-e! Pl-please! P-please!" Albert blathered, desperately wanting to shake Alfred's hand away so he could roll his head back. He was fully erect now, and the burning of his inflamed skin was complimenting the burning of arousal deep in his gut. The two were becoming indistinguishable. 

"Please _what_?" Alfred pouted sweetly, shifting the position of the massager to the tender spot on the underside of Albert's shaft where his cock met his balls. The other man practically _screeched_. Alfred giggled, "Please _what_?!"

Albert whined, thighs involuntarily squeezing together and wriggling like he were trying to keep the massager in place. Head still forced downwards, he greeted the pearl of precum swelling at his slit with the utmost embarrassment. 

"Please... _get the whip_?" Alfred asked, twisting the head of the massager slightly, "Please... _beat me more_?"

"N-no! No!"

"Please... _keep going_?" 

"Nmnnun..."

"Please... _let me cum, mommy_?"

Albert whimpered.

"Say it... Say ' _please let me cum, mommy_.'" Alfred smirked. He cruelly pulled the vibrator away enough so that it was no longer touching Albert's flesh, but just close enough that the pulses could just barely be felt through the air. 

Albert immediately began to sob, toes curling into the carpet below. As much as he hated it -- he wanted it back.

"Come on..." Alfred quickly combed the vibrator along Albert's shaft, causing his hips to buck forward again. He then pulled it away, holding it a bit further this time, "Just say it."

"P... pl... please." 

Alfred inched the massager a bit closer, "Mmhmm..?"

"L-let me c-cum..."

A bit closer.

"Mo-mommy."

Alfred let Albert's head rise, gloved fingers gingerly stroking through the back of the man's blond hair while he pressed the vibrator against his cock again, firmly digging it in close to the top of his balls.

"There, there..." He said softly, "See? That wasn't so bad."

Albert shuddered and moaned, his bruised belly fluttering in delight as his orgasm rapidly approached. He tossed his head back with a yelp, hips bucking forward as white tendrils spilled from his sore cock, leaking down onto the red floor below.

"Look at you -- cumming after a good, hard lashing like a proper slut." Alfred praised, bobbing the massager into Albert's flesh. He rubbed it along his sac, encouraging a few extra squirts of cream to cascade down the shaft.

When Albert's body finally went lip, the man whimpering and mewling softly, Alfred slowly turned the massager off and pulled it away.

"Good girl!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pretty Princes" will probably have another part or two :)


	10. Pretty Princess (Part 3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **CHECK THE ENDNOTES FOR FANART!!**

"Walk faster, Barbie." Alfred urged sweetly, "I don't want to miss dinner."

"D-dinn-- _gah_!" Albert hacked loudly when Alfred suddenly tugged on the leash, causing the slip-rope collar around his neck to tighten.

He tried to keep the other man's pace, eyes trained ahead as he was stumbled shakily on the pink platforms Alfred had given him to wear. The other man had been _kind_ enough to slather him with some lidocaine salve before they left, something that helped the throbbing pain that ran from his nipples to his cock -- but other than the thin sheen of medicated ointment and his heels, Albert was naked. 

Initially, Albert thought they were going to look for Sergei. Alfred had sent the older man off to go and eat, he remembered, and figured that made sense. But as they emerged from a skywalk into the outdoor night, it became clear something was awry. Alfred was taking him somewhere else -- somewhere outside of the manor. Albert could do nothing but follow, eyes to the path below, trying desperately not to trip and begrudgingly wondering how Alfred managed.

Alfred swiped a keycard when they came to a menacing looking gate and swiping it again at a large, metal door a few meters behind it.

The building they enter was cool, though warmer than the outside. They emerged into a hall that was dark, a few utilitarian sconces lighting a long path lined with aluminium walls like a bunker. 

At the end of the hall there was a set of double doors. They had no locks or fancy entrance mechanisms -- just a push would suffice in getting them to open. Beyond them, Albert was sure he could hear a clamour but wasn't sure what the sound was or what could be making it. 

"Resisting is a bad idea." Alfred said smugly as they approached the doors. When they were just in front of them, Alfred stopped, holding Albert in place with the leash.

"You've fucked up so much, it wouldn't take much for me to convince Sergei you'd be more useful if he gutted you and filled you with fluff. He's _delicate_ right now. You've _upset_ him."

Albert's nostril twitched in disgust. He had no doubt the wig-wearing witch had done something similar in the past to some other poor soul.

"I could probably just tell him you broke my nail." Alfred chirped, bringing his gloved hand up and wiggling his fingers. 

Albert wanted to rip the pretty digits off one-by-one and stuff them down Alfred's throat. 

"Look -- you're not getting out of this. Ever. So either be a good girl, or be a giant rag doll. Pick now."

The nonchalant cruelty with which Alfred spoke sent a chill down Albert's spine. He already knew whatever lay beyond that last door was going to be awful, and briefly he considered how much worse death could possibly be. But a superficial, proud part of himself refused to accept there was no way out -- refused to believe there wouldn't an opportunity to escape somehow. Maybe not today. Maybe not the next. Maybe not even the next after that. But one day. 

And he'd wait for that day forever, if he had to.

"Are you going to be a good girl?" Alfred's sneer broke through his thoughts.

"Y-yes."

"Great." Alfred smiled a plastic smile, pressing his hand against the door before them and swinging it open casually.

Immediately, Albert was accosted by the smell of food. Things being fried in old oil, odd meats, unidentifiable sauces. The clattering and scrape of metal plates and utensils dinned through his ears loudly, and it became immediately clear they were in a cafeteria.

 _Dinner_.

"Hi, boys!" Alfred's cute, singsongy mew began immediately turning heads in their direction, "Sorry to interrupt your meal!"

One by one, tables of burly men took notice of them, the rancorous conversation of mealtime dying down to a hush of giggles, knowing whispers, and quiet leering. Albert noticed they were all dressed similarly. Dark green t-shirts and green fatigues. A few of them had patches on their shirts, ones that read "U.B.C.S."

Umbrella's private countermeasure service. Albert had heard of them, but never interacted with any of the mercenaries. He knew the ragtag troops were effectively Sergei's military nostalgia manifested -- pigs to be sent to whatever slaughterhouse Umbrella manufactured next. The ones who survived from mission to mission usually did so by being the cruel and amoral, and Albert quickly realised he was staring all of those very soldiers in the face. 

"Heya' darlin'!" One man shouted, followed quickly by more jeers.

"You gonna let us use that sloppy hole, babe?" 

"Hike that dress up a bit higher, sweetheart."

Some of the men laughed, jovial in their masculine bravado. Alfred simply fluttered his lashes sweetly and flashed a playful smile into the crowd of leches, all the while Albert felt like fainting. 

Eyes. So many eyes. Combing him over, greedily assessing his lash marks and blushing face. Albert was sure he could see tongues running across lips hungrily.

"This is Barbie! Barbie is my new friend." Alfred said, slinging a hand across Albert's chest and leaning into him like they were the best of buddies, "But she has a _pwobwem_..." Alfred pouted and put on a babyish voice. 

"How can we help, gorgeous?" Another man called from the crowd, voice already thick with lust.

"Barbie's pussy is too small!" Alfred chirped, patting Albert on the chest. He could feel the other man's heart beating rapidly, the pounding almost audible, "She can't even take her husband's cock properly!"

Albert meeped stupidly, the blood beneath his cheeks practically boiling with humiliation. He sniffled but complied when Alfred grabbed his collar, using it as a grip to turn and bend him until his ass was on full display for the room. He knew there was still some smudges of lipstick on his thighs he wasn't able to scrub off completely.

Alfred tapped his bottom like he were presenting a fantastic prize before grabbing one of his flushed asscheeks and spreading it roughly. Albert trembled as he felt cool air caress parts of him he never wanted caressed publicly. 

"See? Look at it. It's not a proper cunt at all, is it?" Alfred condemned, "It's so tight and prudish. I want to see her opened right up! Make this twat _drip_."

"Well, I think we can help with that!" A voice happily chimed in, followed with a veritable cacophony of jeering agreement.

Albert shrieked when he felt a pair of hands grab at his hips, pulling him backwards away from Alfred suddenly. He stumbled and fell back, caught against the chest of whoever had grabbed him. 

"Hey there, baby." The massive man grinned down at him, arms circling his chest from behind, "You're going to be nice and sweet for us, ain't cha'?"

Albert's eyes shot back towards Alfred desperately. The _pretty princess_ was sneering at him, but still inviting the touch of two mercenaries that had approached him from both sides. 

The world around him toppled and turned as he was unceremoniously lifted from his feet and tossed down onto a nearby table. The utensils and dinnerware that had been atop the surface were quickly swiped off, giving him more room to splay out. 

Looking up at the fluorescent lights, a dark cloud of faces closed in around his line of vision. Their smiles were awful -- Hungry, greedy, entitled, and cruel. They were talking about him and running their fingers over his lash wounds. He shivered and bucked every time a nail casually scraped over a wound, 

"Charlie -- you got any oil?" He heard one of them call, pausing for a moment before he spoke again, "Oh, yeah that'll work."

Albert peeped when a restaurant-sized can of Crisco was dropped down beside his waist, a man eagerly peeling the plastic cap off of the veritable bucket of shortening and casting it aside. 

' _Do **none** of these animals have access to proper lubrication on this godforsaken island_?' Albert thought to himself grumpily, still somewhat thankful for anything that wasn't lipstick or, even worse, a _dry_ penetration. 

The men were big -- muscular, tall, well-built soldiers -- but they weren't nearly as large as Sergei. 

"Like that, you fuckin' whore?" A more distant voice caught Albert's attention, and he turned his head. Between the clamour of bodies around him, he could just barely see Alfred on his knees, a cock in his mouth and another in his hand. 

"Mmmphh!" Alfred responded giddily, blond wig sticking to his moist cheek as his head bobbed frantically over the organ.

The sensation of cool, greasy hands on his groin immediately pulled Albert away, head just barely cocking upwards to see Crisco being liberally slathered between his legs. 

The man coating him with one hand was wrangling through his pants with his other, every pore exuding lust. He was licking his tongue over his flushed lips, practically salivating. Albert had never felt like more of an _object_ in his life -- not even with Sergei treating him like a living doll. At least with Sergei, he was somewhat, though abusively, cherished -- here, he was just a hole to stab.

The mercenary rubbed his fat, dark cock with the remaining Crisco on his hand, wasting barely a moment before he dipped his hips into the table and prodded at Albert's hole. 

"F-fuck!" He grunted, "That _is_ a tight pussy!"

Albert took a shallow breath, barely able to exhale before he felt his hole split open to accept the consequences of the next, aggressive thrust. His head lulled back on the table, pressure building in his gut as he felt the man sheath himself to the hilt. 

"Ain't gonna be so tight when we're done with you, beautiful!" Another man smiled down at him, "Your twat is going to be leaking for days when you walk outta' here."

" _If_ she can walk out of here." Yet another piped up, laughing.

Albert trembled as he felt the man begin to thrust, beating against the back of his rectum with every deep push. His cock wasn't so thick that the stretch was unbearable, but the exquisitely aching pressure against his prostate was proving to be a challenge as his body involuntarily continued to clench up around the intrusion. He tightened his jaw, suppressing whimpers and trying not to focus on the unrelenting _stroking_ against his inner walls. Every thrust was like a warm, dull massage of his guts, and he balled his nails into his palm to try and keep himself grounded.

He wanted to close his eyes, but the _mocking_ from the men and _squelching_ of the Crisco would have flooded his senses regardless. Unless he plugged his ears like a toddler, which he was very tempted to do, the evidence of what was happening to him would have continued to accost him and work its sultry magic. 

He didn't like it.

"Jesus Christ, she's s-so fuckin- _tight_."

He didn't want to like it.

"It's like she's massaging me with her cunt!"

He _liked_ it. 

Albert let himself whine, tilting his chin forward again -- unable to resist taking a peek at what was happening between his legs. 

Of course his cock was hard -- shamefully standing at full erection, a bit of precum dribbling from the tip as his prostate continued to be subjected to a steady pulse of abuse.

When the man sped up his thrusts, Albert couldn't help but arch his back against the table. His fingers snatched the edges desperately, like he were trying to keep himself from falling off. Every little forced betrayal of his body delighted the men around him. They reached out and began to stroke him, some twisting at his sore nipples, some rubbing his belly like he were a dog. 

Eventually, one found the dangling end of his leash -- carelessly left on by Alfred. The mercenary grabbed at it and tugged experimentally, cooing when he noticed how Albert's mouth opened as he was forced to gag for air. 

"Ay -- I know the other whore said she needed her twat blown out but that lil' mouth looks nice, don't it?"

"Sure does."

Albert unconsciously licked his lips, catching the wrangling of belts and zippers from behind his fluttering eyelashes. 

"She wants it." One of them said hungrily, "She's practically begging for that throatpussy to be stuffed."

As the first cockhead dangled above his lips, the man between Albert's legs climaxed in a loud, animalistic grunt of excitement. He steadied for a moment, taking a deep breath before withdrawing.

"Whoo!" He whistled, panting heavily, "Okay -- who's next?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOOOOOOOOO my god. Okay. 
> 
> First of all: it wouldn't be an AnotherAnon0 story if it didn't include Alfred showing how comfy he is at the UBCS barracks.
> 
> Second of all: The amazing Radelski gifted me this INCREDIBLE (NOT EVEN A GOOD ENOUGH WORD) Sergei/Albert fanart and I am just so blessed? We are all so blessed. Anyone on the SergeixAlfred ship is now blessed. Be blessed with this art.  
> 
> 
> _**** PLEASE CHECK OUT THEIR[TWITTER](https://twitter.com/KouvisArt) AND [INSTAGRAM](https://www.instagram.com/accounts/login/?next=/kouvisart/) @KouvisArt ON BOTH!!**** _
> 
>   
> 
> 
>   
> LIKE..... HOW FREAKING INCREDIBLE IS THAT I JUST---------- GSAISJSIAJSIAJSIAL


	11. Homebody (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An short, odd sort of mini transition chapter.

Albert stared at himself in the mirror, tilting and turning his head curiously as he assessed his reflection.

He had tried to part his hair differently, the blond locks now fluttering just below his chin in what had become a short, choppy bob. 

He was surprised at how fast his hair had grown in the short months he'd been living with Sergei. During what he had come to mentally refer to as his _normal life_ , he'd only needed a trim a few times per year. But the rapid growth had been just one of the physical changes he'd noticed, among more subtle things like his cheeks becoming a bit chubbier, and his belly and arms a bit softer. 

While he knew part of his body was changing simply because he lived a very different lifestyle -- he ascribed a great deal of it to the injections Sergei had continued to give him in his thigh -- once every two weeks.

He still wasn't quite sure what it was. He assumed some sort of hormone or steroid, but ultimately realised it didn't matter. He had no choice or say, and it was just another part of what he had come to mentally refer to as his _new life_.

Sighing, Albert adjusted his hair back to how it had been -- a side part. He combed through the locks a few times with his brush, teasing out a knot he found by his ear gently. When he was done, he opened his medicine cabinet and snatched out the face wash Sergei had bought for him. The man had taken to supplying him with all sorts of beauty supplies and feminine accoutrements -- scrubs, lotions, wipes, and even sheet masks. He liked his sheet masks. They smelled like lavender, and helped pass the time. 

Albert quickly washed his face and towelled himself off, fixing the pink teddy neglige he wore to bed as pyjamas quickly before heading upstairs. 

When Sergei was home -- he slept in his bed. But the older man was away on business, and Albert preferred to sleep in his original room in the basement when he was alone.

He hadn't been locked or chained for many months, and he could roam wherever he pleased. He could even go on walks, it being well-established for him that short of tossing himself into the ocean, there wasn't going to be a way off the island without Alfred or Sergei knowing about it. 

And so he had resolved himself to his odd little life, establishing some level of a routine. 

Immediately upon climbing up the stairs, Albert could smell whatever it was Svetlana was baking. 

The woman had returned after a few weeks in the Island's infirmary, left with a nasty burn that encased a good portion of her face and neck. And yet despite what had happened, she was kind to him. It hadn't taken him long to feel awful. He still felt awful. He'd cried about it more than once -- but then again, he'd been crying a lot lately for reasons he didn't quite understand. Tears would just burst forth from him while doing something completely mundane, random emotions overwhelming him for a brief few minutes before they subsided like a tidal wave. Again, he blamed whatever drugs he was being given.

"Hello, pretty girl!" Svetlana beamed when she saw him settling down at the kitchen table. 

She quickly presented him with his usual breakfast -- a slice of pound cake and a cup of tea. It was chocolate pound cake today, and some sort of herbal concoction for tea. Albert didn't resist the meals anymore, developing the strangest sweet tooth over the past few months. 

"Did pretty girl sleep good?" She asked as she set his portion down.

Albert smiled, "Yes, _baba_ , I did."

" _Polkovnik_ will come home." She grinned excitedly, "Tonight!"

"Oh?" Albert sipped his tea and hummed. Sergei had been gone for almost one week, off on some unknown business for the company. Svetlana was always so happy to greet Sergei upon his returns -- but his arrival generally meant a change in the ritual for Albert. 

Svetlana would have to do his hair, makeup, and pick out an outfit for him. Albert had become quite adept at doing all three on his own, usually having nothing more interesting to do than test out the various pieces of makeup he'd accumulated. But Svetlana seemed to enjoy dressing him up like a little doll, and she knew what Sergei liked better than he did. 

Still, it was always a mystery what Sergei he would encounter when he arrived.

The dark Sergei who mewed with casual sadism and toddler-like cruelty? The sweet Sergei who treated him like a precious doll? The childish Sergei who only wanted to cuddle and be reassured of his safety and lovability? Or simply... Sergei. 

Albert had become used to all of the strange manifestations, and none of them irked or surprised him anymore.

Not usually, at least. 


	12. Homebody (Part 2)

Svetlana had picked out a silky-smooth, pink nightgown for him.

It had black lace trimming around the bosom and bottom hem, and Albert though it quite gaudy. But most of what Svetlana picked out for him was gaudy -- they had conflicting tastes. 

He didn't know why she'd dressed him so early, ushering him off to the bathroom to wash up just after lunch. After he'd dried, changed, and been patted with a not-so-light dusting of powder, she'd sent him up to Sergei's room to await his arrival. That was the normal routine, and yet normally it would take place much later -- closer to when Sergei would be home.

Albert looked out of the large window across from Sergei's bed. It was just barely dusk, a pinch of orange creeping into the distant skyline. He wiggled his head into the pillow beneath it, sinking into the comfortable down a bit deeper.

Just as he wondered if he could sneak in a nap before Sergei arrived to the island, he heard the bubbly voice of Svetlana reverberate up the stairs from the foyer. She was greeting someone excitedly. Albert furrowed his brow and propped himself up on his forearms, curiously trying to listen for the response, but it was too faint to hear. It couldn't have been Sergei -- the ferry to Rockfort didn't come until midnight.

The creak of footsteps ascending the stairs followed a brief chatter, the old wood of the house groaning beneath what was distinctly two sets of boots.

The door to the bedroom was half-closed, making it difficult to see who was approaching from down the hall, but the moment the door swung open with a casual push, the sneer that greeted him caused a scowl to instantaneously manifest on his face. 

"Hello, Barbie!"

Alfred smirked when he caught the disdainful expression creep across Albert's cheeks.

"You seem so happy to see me!" He said cutely, fully aware Albert likely hated him more than he did Sergei.

After their _introduction_ , the Russian had taken to dropping Albert off for the occasional evening of 'girl time.' Normally, for Albert that meant being just as much a doll for Alfred as he was for Sergei. The other man liked to dress him up and paint his face, having him to do the same like they were tween girls raiding their mother's vanity. They'd masturbate each other while they watched _sissy_ porn -- most of which was Alfred's private collection of custom-ordered smut featuring willing and _unwilling_ young men. Alfred sometimes asked him to read smutty stories aloud like victorian dilettantes, giggling at the signs of arousal Albert's body betrayed him with.

Alfred was far more cruel than Sergei -- something Albert didn't even think could be possible. Unlike the older man, who almost seemed psychotically disassociated the great majority of the time, Alfred was fully and clearly aware of what he was doing and took immense pleasure in it. Sometimes, Albert almost wondered if he was taking advantage of Sergei but wrote it off as some developing symptom of the Stockholm Syndrome he was surely being overtaken by. 

Today, Alfred wasn't dressed like his usual feminine self. He was wearing his regal red-and-white uniform, as though he'd just been in an important meeting. 

Behind him, there was another man. He was so short Albert barely noticed him at first. The man was fat, wearing round glasses and a long, white coat. He had a leather satchel with him, like old-class doctors used.

Alfred seemed to notice he'd taken eyes at him, and ushered the older man in with a gesture. 

"Oh, how rude of me. This is Dr. O'Brian." Alfred mewed, speaking slowly like Albert were stupid.

Dr. O'Brian looked Albert over with his beady, dark eyes. He set his satchel down on the bed as Alfred continued. Albert didn't like the way the tiny man's greasy gaze combed over his naked legs.

"Sergei has been very stressed recently... Things have been difficult at work, you see." Alfred mused, "Difficult times in Raccoon City."

Albert knew it was a tease, but couldn't stop from asking anyway.

"What-- what happened?"

Alfred waved his hand dismissively, as Albert expected he would. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, darling." Alfred said, "Leave that to the men to deal with."

The Doctor was pulling something from his satchel, and Albert's eyes flicked to try and catch it but Alfred drew his attention once more, the man skimming towards his side of the bed with a sigh.

"So! I read this study..." He paused, "I won't get into the _sciencey_ details because I know you won't understand..."

Albert snarled.

"And in it, it said that a fertile female can often reduce a man's stress levels!" He purred as though an ice-cold glare hadn't been shot at him, "It also mentioned that men who were in the company of pregnant women, especially, experience the lowest stress levels in the study. Isn't that interesting?"

"Oh so _fucking_ interesting." Albert snidely chirped, "Wonder where you'll fine o--"

Albert stopped mid-sentence, eyes slowly dipping towards his thigh where a needle was being plunged of its contents by the fat little Dr. O'Brian.

Almost instantaneously, he fell back onto the pillows, muscles feeling like they were slowly being stripped of any and all authority he had over them. They were sinking into the bed, becoming heavier than anvils dropped into the ocean. 

His mind didn't feel as disoriented as his body did. He was able to look around, but speaking or moving were near impossible, like there was a tremendous weight sat atop his frame. 

"W-wh... wha..." It was more of an unintelligible moan than it was a question. Alfred dipped over his head to look him in the face, a disgusting smile peeling his lips away from his teeth.

"Shush up, now, Barbie. This won't take long!"

Dr. O'Brian spoke for the first time, then, capping the needle and tossing it into his satchel. He had a raspy, high-pitched voice.

"How long has he been on the estradiol?"

 _'Estradiol?!'_ Albert's brain began to screech in horror as pieces of the puzzle began to slip into place in a way he never thought possible. 

"Five months. A higher dose -- with the extra stuff." Alfred responded casually.

"Okay." The doctor sniffled, rummaging through his bag, "You can u--"

"I want to do it manually for a bit." Alfred purred, lusty eyes still locked with Albert's impotently furious ones.

"Well... alright. I'll get to work down here, then."

Albert shivered when he felt his dress be slipped upwards. Alfred tugged at the silky fabric until it was bunched up close to his neck, leaving his entire body fully exposed to the prying eyes. Both men were looking him over like he were a painting.

"You have gotten a bit plump, haven't you, Barbie?" Alfred smirked.

 _'Fuck you!'_ Albert angrily thought, but his lips weren't even able to groan anymore. Everything was far too heavy. 

"Just a cute, soft little girl." Alfred continued, sighing contently. The words were almost bitter. 

' _Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!'_

"Now I know you're scared about what's happening, my love." He said, taking a tube of something from the doctor, "But this won't take long, and Sergei will love you for it. You want to be a good wife, don't you?"

_'Eat shit and die!'_

"Of course you do."

\--

Alfred popped the cap of the tube and made a show of squirting some of the clear jelly into one of his palms, setting the bottle down and rubbing his hands together slowly, so as to make Albert frightful with the anticipation of what was going to happen.

He then sat one knee on the edge of the bed, giving him a better reach onto Albert's body.

He dropped his fingers and began to work them over each of Albert's exposed nipples, delighting when Albert's eyes shot open wider in confusion. The buds had gotten firmer in the coolness of the room, and Alfred squeezed and plucked them firmly, working the jelly over the little mound of fleshy bosom Albert had developed with his lack of exercise and high-calorie diet. 

"The jelly will warm up soon. Don't worry. It's meant to."

Alfred licked his lips, kneading and squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. He could feel the tingle of the menthol in the gel begin to tickle at his palm as he tugged at the nipples with every pass over them, lifting them slightly between rolling knuckles.

"You're going to make some milk like a proper mommy, aren't you, my dear?" He purred, suppressing a giggle when Albert's brow furrowed in silent despair, "You'll have heavy, leaking udders soon enough. A darling little cow!"

Alfred cast a look down Albert's body at the doctor. O'Brian was snapping on latex gloves, a complex catheter laying in wait between Albert's slightly spread legs.

There was a long, thin, flexible tube with a deflated silicone balloon attached at the very end.

Albert's _baby_.

Of course, though Sergei had expressed childish hopes of fatherhood, his _sexual particularities_ would have made that quite difficult. While Alfred had strongly considered altering Albert in some _fundamental_ way, he knew the risk to the other man's life would have been far too great to risk. Sergei would have been inconsolable if his Barbie was irreparably damaged. 

Some _make believe_ was the next best thing. 

After all, they played dress up in every other respect. Why not... dress up a pregnancy?

And like with all of the other dress up and make believe, Alfred was certainly not going to accept a half-assed attempt. Sergei deserved far better than that -- as did he. So he'd gone to Neil O'Brian, the U.B.C.S physician, to plot. The man didn't ask questions -- he wasn't paid to. He was paid to do whatever it was that was needed of him, whenever it was needed of him. He'd preformed every illegal surgery and ethically dubious procedure in the book, and he certainly wasn't scared off by Alfred's request.

The catheter had been the stubby little doctor's idea. The silicone balloon could be inflated steadily, stretching the bladder and forcing air into the kidney cavities. It would make a little bump... one that could be made larger and larger with amendments. 

Uncomfortable -- certainly. But not immediately detrimental to health. 

Albert wold be able to urinate, all through with some difficulty. O'Brian had mused that perhaps, if it were overly-stretched, he might suffer mild incontinence once the balloon was removed. Nothing a pair of panties affixed with a menstrual pad couldn't deal with. 

Alfred grinned wildly as he watched Dr. O'Brian smear a water-based lubricant over the balloon and tube, working it into the contours of the folded, wrinkled silicone carefully. 

"This should only take a minute or two..." He noted with a mumble, setting a hand on Albert's cock and nudging the end of the balloon towards his urethra. 

Alfred couldn't help bur snap his gaze back to take in the look of utter horror on Albert's face. He wasn't able to lift his head to see what was happening between his legs, but he could _feel_ everything. There was a sheen of glassy tears building up in his eyes, a pathetic whine slipping past his motionless lips. He continued to work the man's bosom, squeezing a bit rougher to offset some of the pain Albert would surely feel. 

The jelly was a flaming hot now, and Albert's breasts were blushing red and beginning to puff as the warmth was worked into his flesh with every stroke. 

"Don't worry, Barbie. It will all be over soon..."


	13. Homebody (Part 3)

"Shhh! Shhh, pretty girl!"

Svetlana was cooing and humming, stroking her chubby hand over his arm in soft, reassuring strokes. 

The chemical paralysis had worn off shortly after Alfred and Dr. O'Brian had left. And though he was able to move on his own again, Albert didn't want to. He simply lay on the bed where he had been left, heaving and sobbing loudly. His entire body was in a state of _discomfort_. It wasn't pain, far more dull, burning, and throbbing than sharp. it was simply _discomfort_. Unnerving discomfort. Anxious discomfort. _Nothing_ was right, _everything_ felt wrong. 

He could _feel_ the balloon in his bladder, and he didn't want to move a single inch out of fear of it rubbing inside of him.

He could _feel_ the awful warmth and swelling in his nipples and bosom, Alfred having thoroughly tugged and kneaded the flesh until it was so hot and red he could feel it radiating up into his cheeks. 

Svetlana had been instructed to sit with him then, and use the small, electric milk pumps Alfred had previously neglected in favour of _manual_ stimulation. Albert didn't protest when the little cups were suctioned to his already-abused nipples. He simply sobbed louder and whined in primal anguish as he felt his nipples be tugged and squeezed by the steady suction of the little machine. Svetlana had been trying to calm him for almost an hour, since he had been able to press sounds through his lips again. 

"Pretty girl, it's okay... why cry? _Polkovnik_ is almost home!" She mewed, as if it were a comfort. She seemed almost confused when Albert only bawled harder in response.

Svetlana stopped the small pumps, something Albert barely noticed in his utter inconsolability. The older woman gently released the suction and held up the small, glass bottle that had been attached to the end. She smiled brightly and tried to catch Albert's attention by wiggling it slightly. When the glass caught the light, Albert's eyes involuntarily flicked towards it, a roiling of nausea lurching through his stomach as he noticed the faintest traces of a few, milky droplets in the bottle. 

He wanted to scream but didn't have the energy. Even his tears had slowed, mind and body utterly exhausted.

"One day, it will be more!" Svetlana said proudly, "But now, you are still small." 

The older woman patted the faint bump that had been created from the forced inflation in his bladder. Albert felt the air swish around his organs, yet another disconcerting wave of sensations he didn't want to acknowledge. He sniffled stupidly as Svetlana tugged his nightgown down, haphazardly covering his body like he had any dignity left to preserve. She then fetched a tissue from the en suite bathroom and patted his face dry of tears.

Svetlana collected the little pieces of equipment, and waddled out of the room, leaving him to wallow in the internal breakdown he was suffering. 

It was as though every moment he had finally adjusted enough to survive, a new component of brutality was introduced to throw him off. He never had a moment to catch his footing enough to dedicate headspace to plotting escape or revenge. He felt -- no, _knew_ \-- he was going to go crazy at this rate.

The sound of the front door opening tickled at his ear, and he involuntarily cocked his head upwards into the noise. A poor choice, as he was able to then finally see the little _bump_ that had been made in his belly, bulging up ever-so-slightly through the material of his gown. It made him want to puke. 

" _Baba!_ "

Sergei's voice called through the house, and Svetlana's scuttling and response dinned up the stairs. They chattered for a minute in their native tongue, Svetlana's voice a bit low and hushed as though Albert could have understood her. Sergei was humming in response, and a moment passed before the characteristic creak of wood signalled he was ascending to the second floor. 

Albert plopped back down onto the pillow, wondering for a moment if he should pretend to be asleep so as to avoid whatever ministrations the older man might have wanted to conduct upon him, but by the time he decided it was too late. 

Sergei entered the bedroom with a slow saunter, hands folded at his waist and an odd semi-purse in his lips. His silver brow was furrowed, and his unscarred eye flicked over Albert's form curiously. 

" _Baba_ says you're sad. Why are you sad now, Barbie?"

' _Where do I even begin_?' Albert thought bitterly, ' _You've kidnapped me. Raped me. Fattened me up like a pig. Put me on women's hormones_ _. Let your little freak-of-nature boyfriend abuse me. And now you're forcing me to play your **pregnant** fucking wife. Where the **fuck** to even begin.'_

Albert stared up at the ceiling without response, fingers curling themselves up through bedsheet. Above him, Sergei was looming like a dark cloud Albert was trying to avoid looking at directly. 

A moment of silence passed between them and with every second that floated away, the air in the room seemed to get heavier and heavier. 

"I have been gone for many weeks." The older man spoke softly, "And you do not even greet me."

 _'Fuck you.'_ Albert raged in his mind.

Sergei sighed, rubbing his scarred lips together with no hidden degree of what appeared to be exasperated annoyance. He began to saunter around the room in a slow, steady pace, hands dropping to his sides to swing idly. 

"I have tried very hard with you... I have given you many chances and let you do much damage to my heart and my _baba_ and my home with very few repercussions." Sergei turned with a huff, "No more."

 _'Fuck you.'_ Albert's gaze remained trained on the ceiling. 

"You have to start behaving. Enough with these silly temper tantrums. I grow tired of your attitude." Sergei moved to loom over him again, "How am I supposed to trust you will be a good mother when you cannot even be a good wife?"

_' **FUCK** you.'_

Albert wiggled when Sergei slipped a hand around his wrist. He tried to pull away but the older man was far stronger and maintained his grip. Firmly, though not aggressively, Sergei tugged Albert upwards into a seating position, prompting a horrified gasp from the blond. Immediately, his other hand clutched at the small lump in his lower belly, the inflated balloon in his bladder jerking upwards and rubbing painfully against his kidneys.

"Get up, Barbie. Stop being dramatic." Sergei sighed, "I've sent _baba_ to bead already. Go make me some tea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :0 poor Albert 
> 
> disclaimer that obviously all of the science here is just nonsense and I am fully aware of that lol 
> 
> don't worry, Albert will absolutely be having a hard time in the next chapter.


	14. A Good Wife

Albert clutched the edge of the kitchen counter and tilted his hips back, seeking a moment of relief from the discomfort in his gut. 

It was a constant state of disconcerting stretch -- every nerve in his body seemed to send out a steady pulse of messages to his brain reading ' _something is wrong_.' But there was nothing he could do about it. There was no relief to be had until the balloon was removed from his bladder. 

He'd been ' _sized up_ ' twice since it was inserted, the fat, little Dr. O'Brian coming unannounced and ushering him into a bathroom. A little hand pump with a nozzle at the end was unceremoniously inserted into his urethra, lodging into the internal catheter housed in his shaft, and a few squeezes were quickly issued, air forcing its way into the balloon and increasing its size fractions of an inch each time. It was always painful for hours afterwards as Albert got adjusted to the new size, but he had no energy left to resist with. He simply sat in the living room after, trying to massage away the cramps. 

He was due for another ' _size up_ ' any day now -- a few weeks having passed since the last. The doctor said they wanted to keep him at pace with a normal pregnancy. The illusion was important, after all. 

Albert figured he'd simply rupture if they were stupid enough to try and force him to look full term. He'd rupture, and get sepsis, and perhaps -- if he were lucky -- die. He hoped it would be quick, and that they were too far away from the hospital to resuscitate him on time. If he could die while they were frustrated, he would call it a victory. 

For now, as always, he simply suffered. 

A speck of crumb on the counter caught his eye and he snatched the nearby sponge to swipe it up before tossing it back into the sink. 

He'd finished the dishes, swept and mopped the floor, and set away the pots and pans he'd used to make dinner. 

Svetlana had taught him a few basic recipes Sergei favoured and he was able to replicate easily enough. He continued to eat his cake, however, Svetlana cooking up the pastries for him as baking was a mystery to him. He learned quickly that the knives were in the locked drawer he had to ask for permission to open, and there were no chemicals of lethal danger that could be spiked into the broths or teas.

The old woman was in the living room, a straight eyeshot down from the kitchen. She appeared to have fallen asleep on the couch, crochet needle and a bundle of yarn fallen to her lap. She had been watching a recording of some old Russian cartoon on the television. She had been able to relax a bit more with Albert's assistance around the house, the blond taking up the more labour intensive tasks of scrubbing the floors and vacuuming the carpets despite the discomfort it caused him. 

Albert snuck a peak at the stupid, cat-shaped clock on the wall. 

9:45 p.m.

He'd brought Sergei his after-dinner vodka an hour ago.

The man had been spending the majority of his time in his office since he'd returned to the Island. Half of his meals had to be served to him at his desk.

Something was going on with Umbrella. Something which was making the man tremendously stressed and anxious. Albert couldn't even fathom a guess as to what it was, having been so locked away and isolated from any outside information for so many months. He often gave a thought to whether the outbreak at Arklay had somehow spread -- but quickly shook that off. He'd detonated the facility before he'd been captured, and the mansion would have been an easy fix. 

Albert sighed and stood up straight. He carefully turned and waddled through the kitchen, slowly plodding up the stairs and down the hall, prominent belly wiggling beneath his white nightgown with every step.

He knocked gently on Sergei's office door, not waiting for a response before pushing the ajar door open. 

Sergei was sat at his desk, fingers of one hand tented over his forehead as his other flipped through a heavy, thick document. Albert had just been intending on telling the older man he was going to bed from the door's frame, but when he caught sight of the paperwork strewn over the huge table, he thought he might sneak a bit closer to covertly see what he could see. 

"I'm done my chores." Albert cleared his throat, taking small, quiet steps closer to the desk and trying to make it look casual, " _Baba_ is asleep on the couch. I was going to go to bed."

Sergei slowly lifted his head, a small smile creeping across his scarred lips. 

"Come here." He said, stretching an arm out to his side and inviting Albert to his hip. 

The blond bit his tongue and internally roiled at the thought, but complied. He figured it was an opportunity to get a better look at the papers. 

He slipped around the desk and followed the trail of Sergei's arm, letting his bulging belly lightly press against the man's side. It was uncomfortable, even more so when Sergei wrapped his hand around his lower back gently and pulled him closer. Albert winced as the air in his organs fluttered and bubbled, perversely grateful for when Sergei dropped his forehead to rest against his collarbone for the moment of privacy he was afforded to grimace.

The older man took deep, self-soothing breaths through his nose, the warm air spilling over Albert's flesh.

"I am very stressed, Barbie." He mumbled.

"Mm?" Albert's eyes flicked towards the desk, trying to take in whatever he could without turning his head. Most of the documents he could see scattered about were in Cyrillic, but they were clearly files from Umbrella -- each baring the characteristic red-and-white logo at the footer. The one document Albert could tell wasn't in Russian was the large, thick stack in the centre of the desk Sergei had been reading through when he'd entered.

Albert strained his eyes to their corners, furrowing his brow and trying to get the tiny type to come into focus for him without success. 

Just as he considered tilting his head to the side, Sergei lifted his.

"Make me feel better..." He said softly.

"Oh?" Albert cleared his throat again, "U-uh... H-how?"

Sergei grinned widely, shuffling his chair back from the desk. 

it wasn't readily apparent what he wanted. Immediately, Albert figured a blow job, though gagged at the thought. He'd been fortunate enough to have been relatively unmolested the past few months. While the older man seemed to enjoy spooning and fondling, Albert couldn't recall the last time he'd actually penetrated him. It almost irked him at times, especially when they slept together. He constantly anticipated it, feared it, stressed over it -- but it never came.

But he was proven wrong when Sergei instead tugged him by the wrist, encouraging him to climb onto his lap so they were facing each other. Internally, Albert grumbled at his loss of purview over the paperwork.

He struggled to mount Sergei's huge thighs, straddling them with awkward stumbles as he cringed at the discomfort radiating from his belly. Sergei noticed and helped him by wrapping a hand around his back to support his upper body. 

Almost immediately, Sergei used that leverage to pull him closer and bury his face in the crook of Albert's jaw.

The older man began to plant gentle, tickling kisses along his neck, trailing the groove of the tendons that led down towards his jugular notch. Albert couldn't suppress the little, squeaky moan that pushed past his lips, though he despised himself for it. 

Sergei's tongue played along the dip beneath his collarbone, the firm tip dragging at the length of thin flesh. Albert felt a shiver run up his spine as Sergei's lips dipped lower once more, creating a path to the topmost, frilly hem of his nightgown.

Tender fingers were suddenly at his left shoulder, slipping the string-like strap of the gown down his fat-softened arm. The silky fabric fluttered downwards with the strap, the topmost curve of one of Albert's perpetually flushed areola peeking out. The blond swallowed hard, tilting his chin down to watch Sergei brush over his nipple with the pad of a thumb as he tugged the fabric down lower and fully exposed the waiting nipple.

Albert's breath caught in his throat when Sergei's tongue painted a broad stroke across his vulnerable bud, almost immediately prompting it to hardness. 

The older man lapped at him eagerly while Albert worked desperately to fight off any of his body's attempts to respond to the not-unpleasant sensation. His nipples had become obscenely sensitive since he'd first been massaged those many weeks ago -- and he had been expected to pump himself multiple times per day, usually under Svetlana's watchful eye, ever since. 

While he'd never admit it to anyone else, and certainly denied it to himself, playing with his nipples wasn't all that bad. Emotionally exhausting and humiliating, of course, but physically it was undeniably enjoyable. He'd caught himself more than once running the shower head over his chest for far longer than it should have taken for him to get clean, delighting in the soothing that came with it. 

But no. He wasn't supposed to enjoy this horrible manipulation of his captive body. He hated that he did. 

He was almost _happy_ that the pain in his belly from the foreign insertion would tingle a bit harder when his muscles clenched in response to the pleasure. it tempered him, and kept him grounded.

Albert's eyes shot open widely when Sergei slurped up his entire nipple between his lips, delivering a firm, cheek-hollowing suck. His head lulled back and a jagged gasp fluttered from his throat. 

"O-oh..."

He could feel Sergei chuckle, the _hum_ reverberating up his flesh. The older man continued to suck, a few droplets of milk escaping the corner of his smirking lips and plodding down onto Albert's lap.

Albert didn't even notice when he'd lifted his hands to circle around the back of Sergei's head, fingers getting tangled in the silver locks. He was pulling the Russian closer, silently pleading with him to go _harder_ , to suck him in _deeper_. His thighs were grasping at Sergei's hips greedily, but his hunger was immediately penalised by a shockwave of pain rattling at his guts. One of Albert's hands immediately dropped to grab at his belly, teeth clenching tightly with a whimper as his muscles cramped up around the balloon. 

Sergei's lips made a loud _slurp_ as they were pulled away, the older man smiling up at him while licking cream from his lips like a smug cat. He had the most devious look in his unscarred eye.

"Should you be getting this aroused while feeding? What a naughty mommy you are..." He said, voice low and impossibly sharp, "Perhaps I should stop."

"N-no!" Albert wanted to slap a hand over his mouth, the protest blathering from him far too quickly for it to be dignified. 

"No?" Sergei mused, idly tugging down Albert's other gown strap, letting the delicate fabric fall and fully expose both of his nipples. They were both hard now, blushing buds atop the fleshy lumps of his tiny, fatty breasts. 

The older man took both lumps like a farmer would an udder and squeezed them firmly, prompting a loud moan from Albert as his milk cascaded down onto Sergei's thumbs. He did it again, a bit firmer, and a thin spray shot onto Sergei's chest, leaving dark splatters on his grey shirt. 

Sergei smiled, repeating the kneading squeezes over and over again, savouring the expression of on-again-off-again pleasure and agony on Albert's beet-red face. 

"You're like a little cow, _malysh_." Sergei paused, but Albert didn't notice, " _Malysh **ka**_."

"O-oh, y-ye-yes..." Albert moaned while Sergei continued his ministrations. 

"Do you like being milked like a little cow?"

Albert nodded dopily, fingers massaging his own belly to sooth the cramps there. He was utterly ashamed of what was happening, but he didn't have the energy to resist his body. He'd needed it so badly recently -- so desperately. He lifted one hand to grab at the back of Sergei's neck again, tugging him closer and making his silent demand clear. 

Blissfully, Sergei complied. He took Albert's neglected nipple into his mouth this time, sucking firmly while still squeezing the flesh beneath and maximising the rich, sweet cream he was able to draw from the warm bud. He let his tongue swirl around the bud as he suckled at it, prompting delirious moans from Albert, who was now rocking his hips in Sergei's lap. 

As much as the older man wanted to continue, he knew it was time to stop. He swallowed a few more near-mouthfuls of the milk before reluctantly popping his lips off of the flesh. Albert groaned in disappointment when the kneading ceased as well.

"I have much work to do, Barbie. Thank you for the drink. It did indeed calm my nerves."

"W-what?" Albert whimpered in confusion.

Sergei used a finger to wipe a drop of milk from Albert's chest, lifting it to his lips and lapping it off quickly, "Work. I must get back to work."

"B-but... but..."

"But what?" Sergei tilted his head to the side.

Albert stammered stupidly as he was ushered off of Sergei's lap gently, 

"I know, my doll, I know..." Sergei mewed sympathetically, shuffling his chair back towards his desk, "I wish we could go forever too, but that is not possible, unfortunately." The older man sighed, "Please go to bed. I am sure you are tired. You have done many chores today -- a very good wife."

Albert was so distraught he didn't even notice he could have easily read the paperwork on Sergei's desk as he plodded towards the door, nipples still leaking down his chest stupidly, nightgown dropped and disheveled.

"And try not to wake _baba_ up!" Sergei interjected as he exited, "Walk quietly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty there's likely going to be only one or two more chapters after this. Probably just one.
> 
> Y'all are either going to like the ending or despise it.


	15. And... Scene

Albert hadn't been able to sleep at all. 

He spent the night aimlessly rubbing his nipples and frotting against Sergei's heavy sheets, occasionally walked back by a **_zap_** of pain from his guts. They became easier and easier to ignore. 

Usually, Sergei would slip into bed at some point during the early hours to catch an hour or two of rest, but that night he never came. Instead, just before sunrise, Albert heard a car pull up outside the house. He snuck to the window to take a peek only after he heard the front door open and close -- Sergei entering the black sedan's backseat wielding a large, heavy-looking briefcase. He hadn't even changed out of what he had been wearing the previous night.

In the distance, Albert could see a number of similar black sedans driving near the Ashford estate, headlights flashing in the twilight darkness. 

Immediately, Albert tip-toed towards the older man's office, curious to see if he'd left any paperwork behind. But Sergei had locked the door, and attempting to jimmy it open would have been far too loud and surely awoken Svetlana, who was still snoring away just beneath the second floor banister on the living room couch. 

Albert returned to the room with a huff, and slid himself beneath the covers once more. He tried to get a few hours of shut eye, but only tossed his head on the pillow and grumbled indignantly. 

An hour or two later,the cry of seagulls rang in dawn, and Albert heard Svetlana stir on the first floor. He didn't want to go down and help her with chores quite yet -- he was tired and frustrated. But his night of furious self-kneading had also left him quite warm, and the heavy duvet wasn't helping. 

On tip-toes, Albert slipped from bed quietly so as not to alert Svetlana he was awake. He snuck to the window and turned the lock-key, pushing the double-frame open widely and sighing in contentment at the delightful smack of ocean salt-heavy air, cool with the morning chill. 

He perched himself on the frame for a few minutes, long blonde hair bobbing in the breeze as he looked over the house's purview of Rockfort Island. There seemed to be quite a bit of activity near Ashford's, and in the light of day Albert could see far more of a gathering than he could the previous night. 

Like clockwork, Albert saw a car approaching the house on the main stretch. Figuring it must have been Sergei returning, Albert slipped back into the bed, dipping his head beneath the covers and listening intently for the opening and closing of a car door. 

What he hadn't anticipated was multiple car doors opening and closing, and he furrowed his brow in confusion as he heard distinct pairs of shoes striding up the stone pathway to the front entrance. 

There was no knock or ring, instead the door was simply opened and the striding entered the house.

"Dok-tor O'Brian!" Svetlana greeted loudly, "Hello!" 

Albert's heart sank.

"Hello, Svetlana." The distinct, nasally voice reverberating up the stairs and through the open door of the bedroom, "Is... ah... _our lovely lady_ upstairs?"

There was a stupid, cruel giggle that followed unmistakable for anyone but Alfred. Albert's heart sank even lower, crashing through the mattress. 

O'Brian was bad on his own -- but whenever Alfred was accompanying, things were always far worse than they had to be. 

When Svetlana began speaking in Russian, Albert realised Sergei was there too. A rare occurrence -- the man hadn't been present for any of his trysts with Alfred, nor had he witnessed a single one of his 'pregnancy progressions.' O'Brian and Alfred had suggested it was meant to be kept somewhat masked from him. Sergei responded to what appeared to be a question from _baba_ with a negative. As they continued to chatter, the wood of the stairs creaked and cracked with ascending steps. Only one. They quickly strode down the hall and emerged into the bedroom, a moment of pause shortly following.

Albert's heart began to beat wildly, breath catching in his throat when he heard O'Brian address him.

"Are you awake, my dear?"

The duvet was gently tugged downwards from the outside, O'Brian pulling at the blanket until Albert's face -- eyes open and cheek steeled -- was exposed.

O'Brian chuckled, "Just me! No need to be afraid." He said, as though that were a comfort at all.

Albert had known he was due for a 'size-up,' but always dreaded them. With a shaky huff of discontent, he kicked the sheets off and exposed his body, laying flat and unmoving on the bed like a starfish and looking towards the ceiling. He'd tune it out, he decided, refusing to say a word to the fat little man. 

The doctor shrugged, setting his leather satchel atop the bed. Unceremoniously, he lifted the silky fabric of Albert's gown like he had so many times before, bunching up the fabric over the bump in his belly. 

Albert took deep, unnerved breaths through his nose, counting the knots in the wood beams above him. 

Familiar sounds flooded his ears. 

The _rustle_ of O'Brian sorting through his bag.

The _snap_ of latex gloves. 

The _squirt_ of lubricant being applied to the pump handle. 

The _whistle_ of O'Brian taking heavy breaths through his stubby, pig-like nose.

"Now this will hurt for just a moment, my dear."

' _Yeah, yeah_...' Albert thought. He'd heard it all before. There was no need to say it again.

He winced as the nozzle of the pump was slipped into his urethra, O'Brian holding his cock steady in one hand as he did. Albert bit in the inside of his cheek as he waited for the gush of air to blast into him and expand his already-stretched bladder further. 

But it never came.

Instead, Albert heard something he'd never heard before. 

The _gush_ of air being released. 

Albert tilted his chin forward, curious as to what was happening and why it didn't hurt at all. 

His belly was getting smaller. With every breath he took, it was shrinking. 

O'Brian set a hand on the bump and pulsated firmly, causing Albert to fall back into his pillow as a wave of discomfort washed over him. He didn't understand what was happening, and immediately his mind went to some other, far worse torture that he was being prepared for. 

The doctor continued to deliver firm presses to his lower belly, releasing his cock and using both hands to knead his thumbs into the fleshy cavern that was being hollowed out. Albert hissed, but when he managed to gather enough strength to look down to his stomach again, he was somewhat pleased to see the bump was completely gone. Nothing but a fatty pouch of slightly-stretched skin remained. 

"Lay down and relax, dear, I am almost done." O'Brian urged, pulling a set of thin forceps from his pocket.

Albert hissed when he felt the metal prongs replace the nozzle tip that had been inside of him. They were cold and unlubricated, and O'Brian was shoving them far deeper up his urethra than he had the nozzle. 

Moments later, he felt the deflated balloon wiggle around in his bladder before being slowly jerked downwards. 

O'Brian was removing it. Albert almost wanted to cry. Even if the relief only lasted a few minutes, he was thankful. He hadn't been able to piss without pain in weeks.

After the longest few minutes he'd ever experienced, the balloon was birthed from his aching cock. 

Albert tilted his chin down again, watching O'Brian wipe up the trickles of red-tinted urine that were cascading down his cock, and scrub his urethra down with an antiseptic pad quickly. 

The doctor stuffed his gloves, the wipes, freed insertable, and forceps into a yellow waste bag, which he quickly tied off and set into his satchel before clicking it closed. 

Albert was almost confused when he turned on the heels of his shiny black shoes and strode out of the bedroom, leaving him without another word -- gown still bunched up around his belly button. 

"All done, Colonel!" O'Brian chirped as he skipped down to the first floor. They chattered briefly, Sergei offering for _baba_ to make him tea and the doctor accepting graciously. As a chair scraped at the kitchen table, the stairs were ascended once again.

Albert's expression hadn't changed from when he watched O'Brian leave the room. His brow was furrowed, lips parted, and blinks slow and staggered. He was propped up on his forearms, not even concerned with his nudity when Alfred and Sergei entered the room. The 6th Earl Ashford had a devious, smug grin on his face, and was holding a large duffel bag. 

Sergei looked at him for a moment, unscarred eye scanning his body with a tickle of amusement glistening at the back of the light blue orb. 

"Get up, Albert." He said softly.

Again, Albert simply blinked. He barely registered that the man had called him something other than "Barbie." He barely registered that _it was his own name_ that Sergei had addressed him by -- he hadn't heard it in so long. 

He only moved when Alfred tossed the duffel bag onto the bed. He winced and sat upright, but his expression was still one of utterly perplexed, still-processing numbness. 

"Get up, loser, it's time to go!" Alfred drawled at him condescendingly, "The helicopter is going to be here soon."

"W-w-wh... what?" Albert felt his Adams apple grating against the inside of his neck like an apple peeler. There was a steady beat of increasingly harsh throbs drumming at his temples. A sharp line of confusion-induced migraine began to run in a line across his forehead.

Sergei sighed loudly, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, "As much as I would have loved to have continued your punishment... Umbrella needs you. There have been urgent developments."

"P-Punish... punishment?"

Albert grabbed the duffel bag and began to frantically unzip it, it almost fell out of his hands as he did. 

He tugged out whatever he could grab from the inside, holding the bundle fabric up in front of him and letting it unfurl.

A black suit shirt.

Albert dropped it and stuffed his hands into the bag again.

Loafers. Trousers. A belt. A tie. 

They were a style he once favoured. Like they'd been plucked straight from his closet.

And then it dawned on him that they _were_ his. And they most certainly _had_ been plucked straight from his closet. 

They were his clothes. They were giving him his clothes. 

"W-wha... I d-don't... u-understand."

Sergei chuckled. He took a few, casual steps closer, until he was near enough to reach out and stroke Albert's cheek with a thumb. 

"It's all done, _malysh_ , you can go." He spoke softly, pursing his lips as though disappointed he even had to speak the words, "Do not worry, the effects of the treatments should disappear within a few short months. I ensured this would be the case. Nothing permanent."

"You might have to wear a tampon, though." Alfred snidely chirped, "O'Brian says your bladder might have been a bit _too_ stretched out during your _pregnancy_."

"I am **sure** , with the proper exercises, you will be **okay** in time." Sergei humphed at Alfred's interjection, trying to remain reassuring.

Albert unconsciously leaned in to Sergei's touch, sharp, increasingly frantic breaths stabbing through his ash-dry lips.

"But you... you..." Albert tried to swallow but there was nothing _to_ swallow, "Y-you..."

"I what?" Sergei said, licking his lips with amusement. He clucked his tongue after a moment of Albert's stammering nonsense, "Ah... yes."

Sergei pulled his hand away and lifted it to his lips in a fist, clearing his throat dramatically. In a single blink, the entire look in his unscarred eye changed -- it was far darker and more malicious. 

"Why don't you talk to me, Barbie? You are always so quiet..."

Albert's eyes steadily widened. The tone that had suddenly overtaken Sergei's voice sliced through his chest. He felt every organ he had drop through his body like it were crashing into the Earth's core.

Sergei dipped his head lower, that look in his eye -- that unhinged, psychotic gaze -- it reminded Albert of every time he'd gone off on an abusive, unpredictable tangent. Sergei's voice got lower still, and Albert whimpered in response. 

"Do you not like me? Why don't you like me? After all I've done for you, you should be grateful. _ **You should love me**_..."

A smirk flicked at the corners of Sergei's lips, and just as rapidly as it had come, the look was gone. The sparkle of amusement returned, like it had never left at all.

Behind him, Alfred was giggling. 

Sergei stood up straight, snorting at the gaped sag that had come to Albert's jaw, his eyes hyper-focused on Sergei's every move. The man was clearly in psychological torment. 

"But I did not lie that _Papochka_ was going to throw you away!" Sergei said, shrugging, "Spencer would have had me just kill you. I convinced him that even the most undisciplined toys can be brought into line with the proper punishment."

"And you are _in line_ now... aren't you, Albert?" Alfred piped up sardonically like a secondary high-school bully, crossing his arms against his chest with a smug grin. 

Albert wanted to puke.

"But we did have fun, didn't we, my doll?" Sergei sighed, patting Albert's cheek a few times softly like a father greeting a child, "I was also not lying when I said I wish we could go forever." 

He _needed_ to puke.

"But! Unfortunately, we are in dire times. There was an incident in Raccoon City while you were h--"

Albert stumbled from the bed and darted towards the en-suite bathroom, unable to make it to the toilet before bile began sputtering from his lips. He leaned over the bathtub and let it flood from him, falling to his knees in jerky drops.

Sergei and Alfred watched him from the bedroom.

The blond aristocrat was clearly enjoying the man's horror and disgust, a smug smirk on his delicate, unmarred face. But Sergei wasn't nearly as amused, becoming increasingly frustrated with the wasted minutes.

The helicopter couldn't be kept waiting, after all.

"Dr. O'Brian!" He called loudly, annoyance clear in his voice, "Come here! He's puking!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Barbie Doll: Directed by M. Night Shyamalan. 
> 
> SO. YEP.
> 
> Sergei was bullshitting the entire time. It was punishment, after all. Spencer had just wanted Albert punished and kept out of the way of operations and intel -- and who better to dole out a good, clean psychological punishment than Sergei Vladimir?
> 
> This was fun. I may add some addendums at a later date! I was thinking about an alternative ending, as well as an Albert-centred follow up where he deals with how he feels about all of it. What do you think?
> 
> How did you guys enjoy it! please let me know! <3
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
